Bruises
by Sandfire Kat
Summary: Hiro was so much like her. He was stubborn, he was intelligent, he was bright. A spitting replica if not for personality. Could he really be blamed for what he did? He had motives. People always do. But his motives were good ones, surely. For him. For others it was not as much so. For others, this was a living nightmare. One they could not wake up from. One they might not survive.
1. Chapter 1

Usually Friday nights were peaceful. Well, peaceful served as a rather loose term to describe it. The workstations and hallways of the San Franksokyo Institute of Technology were almost completely silent; if somebody were to drop a pencil, there would almost be a one hundred percent chance that the noise would create an echo. It was a good kind of atmosphere to work in; but that was just the point. Work was still being done, and because of that, along with the silence, there was also a sense of stress in the air. Those who had stayed behind in their labs and set to work were crunching to finish a project, or draw more conclusions from tests runs or experiments. As the students worked, the air fizzled with concentration and stress that usually coexisted with the serene Fridays. As was the routine.

However, some of them were more stressed-out than others.

"I just wish he would understand!" Honey Lemon winced, looking slightly uncomfortable as she shifted on the rolling chair she was currently perched on. She had taken a break from her own work and delved into Tadashi's workstation instead, upon getting too frustrated over the fact that her own project wasn't turning out the way she had wanted it to. She hadn't expected Tadashi, who was usually so laid-back, to be even angrier than she had been.

He paced back and forth, having diverted from his work. His hands were restless, going from wringing in front of him, to running anxiously through his hair in sporadic intervals. He huffed with every other step, and despite the fact that Honey Lemon attempted to reassure him every so often, there was no break of anger in the other's stride as he continued to ramble. "I mean, he's got such a good head on his shoulders, you know? But it's just…it's just like every time he's asked to actually _think_ , it comes across as a foreign idea to him."

Honey Lemon offered him a weak smile. "Aw; I'm sure he'll come around, Tadashi. He just needs time."

"I know, I know," he sighed, stopping short and putting his hands on his hips. He hung his head for a moment, then shook it from side to side. "And I understand how stubborn he is; I've had years of experience in knowing that part of it all. I just…wish it wouldn't be that way. He…he's got so much _potential_ , and right now it's being wasted with what he's doing. You've got no idea how many times I've tried to get him to enroll here, or at least come to _visit_!" He blew out a huff of air, turning and looking over at his friend in frank exasperation. "He just doesn't _understand_ anything, no matter how hard I try to get it through his skull."

Honey Lemon perked, her eyebrows pulling together as she opened her mouth to reply. But she was beaten to the punch.

"Well, I hope you're not talking about me." The pair jerked to attention at the introduction to another voice. Tadashi, who had been facing the door to begin with, immediately brightened with recognition. Honey Lemon did the same once she spun her chair around.

"Professor Callaghan!" Tadashi greeted, his tone losing its harsh edge at once. The professor grinned warmly from where he stood at the entrance of the boy's lab, turning briefly to nod graciously over in Honey Lemon's direction. The girl grinned eagerly in response, feeling a touch of relief at the sight of the teacher. By the look of it, Tadashi was distracted enough by the arrival of Professor Callaghan. Maybe now he could relax a little bit. As if sensing the girl's thoughts, Callaghan paced slowly into the room, his eyebrows raising good-naturedly. "If this is about the upcoming project, let me remind you that it's only twenty percent of your grade."

Tadashi smiled and shook his head. "No, no, I wasn't talking about you, Professor. I've already finished that project," he said respectfully.

"I see. Well, I look forward to seeing the results. Though I'm sure, going by your work in the past, it will be nothing short of flawless." The older man tilted his head to the side, seeming somewhat concerned. "Though you do seem to be having some sort of trouble. And, of my students, you're not one to lose your head very often. Is there anything that I could help you with? Anything I could…do?"

Tadashi sighed through his nose, grimacing as his shoulders drooped. "Not really, Professor, no. I'm just…having some trouble with my little brother is all."

The elder nodded, a sense of recognition glimmering in the back of his eyes. "I think you've mentioned him before," he recalled slowly. "He's…the young boy that finished high school four years early, isn't that right?"

Tadashi rolled his eyes. "And the one that _refuses_ to do _anything else_ with himself? That's the one."

Honey Lemon smiled tenderly where she lingered on the sidelines. "Tadashi's quite the disappointed older brother," she remarked.

Callaghan only nodded fairly. "A role that is quite understandable."

"It's just that I know he could make so many differences! He's got all this potential, and…" The teenager gestured lamely in replacement of finishing audibly. Then, letting out a huff, he backtracked and spoke slower. "Hiro is such a smart kid but he just doesn't want to stop and think. All he wants to do is take his robot that he made and go Bot Fighting! There's no future in that— not to mention that it's dangerous! He goes out every night and I have no idea if he's going to come back with a warrant for his arrest, or with a split skull! Or even worse, just not at all. If he would just listen to me or Aunt Cass a little bit more, he would just be so much _better off_."

Professor Callaghan perked, though by the time that he replied, it was not in a sense of repulsion for the boy's conduct, but rather it was for something else entirely. "Bot Fighting?" the man repeated, as if he had never heard of the action before. For a moment he was quiet, not saying anything. He seemed almost confused, sidetracked from his original line of thought. Tadashi started to wonder if he really was ignorant – though it couldn't be the case with him, surely – when the man seemed to shake himself out of whatever mental rut he had gotten into.

His attitude recovered and he smiled again in the boy's direction. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said easily. "Bot Fighting— that certainly _is_ an issue. I should know, too; when my daughter was younger, that was all she wanted to do. Such a stubborn little girl…" His eyes went soft briefly, his words ending in a taper rather than a full stop. Honey Lemon wilted at the change in tone, her eyebrows knitting together in a sense of sorrow. It wasn't uncommon knowledge that Professor Callaghan once had a daughter that had passed away at a young age. People didn't know why, of course— he didn't wish to tell the information, and in turn nobody wished to ask outright when he was so obviously reserved. Such a thing would be a thoughtless, if not downright awful, thing to do.

He shook himself out of his thoughts a second time. Instead he turned to Tadashi, inquisitive and sharp once again. "How old is he now?"

"He's fourteen, sir."

Callaghan nodded. "Ah. That was my daughter's rebellious age too. It passed fairly easily with her; I'm sure the same could be said for your younger brother. You shouldn't worry so much. With a head like that on his shoulders, I'm sure that Hiro will turn out just fine."

Tadashi smiled, and Honey Lemon did the same as she saw that her friend seemed comforted. "Yeah— yeah, I'm sure you're right." Thinking over the assurance, the young boy added quickly: "Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it."

He nodded in turn. "Don't worry. It'll all turn out just fine."

Gradually, they diverted from the topic of the younger Hamada brother. Professor Callaghan went on to question Tadashi on what he was planning to turn in for their recent project, and the young student launched into full detail. Once they began to get into the nitty-gritty of the mechanics and robotics, Honey Lemon stood and excused herself from the situation. She bade a 'Good night' to Tadashi, and a 'Thank you' to Professor Callaghan before turning and making for her own workstation.

She could get to work on her own project now— it was due in a week and she really had nothing to show for herself up to this point. Tadashi would be fine from now on too; if not, he had his professor there to help, and he could do more to help the boy than she could.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Tadashi got home late— it was near midnight by the time he walked over the threshold of his home. The lights were off, the café was long closed, and as he walked up to the living room, he could tell by the lack of late-night horror films and popcorn that Aunt Cass had already gone to sleep. He couldn't blame her either, he was almost nodding off himself by now. Stifling several yawns along the way, Tadashi fished something out of the fridge to eat at random, and turned to head up the steps for his room. Halfway up the steps he realized he had fished out a peach that he had thought was an apple, and he was starting to decide whether or not that was a good thing when all of a sudden his thought process was cut off.

Finishing the stairs and walking into his room, the older Hamada brother stiffened at once as he realized that the room was empty. Hiro was nowhere to be seen and it was nearly…well, _tomorrow_. The idea immediately caused a sense of anxiety to rise in the elder, and, glancing worriedly down the stairs, he resolved to wait rather than just go to bed like he had been planning to. Surely Hiro couldn't be gone for too much longer? And if he was, then he would just be forced to head out into the city and search for him. He couldn't go to bed if Hiro was not in the one beside him— the worry would just keep him tossing and turning.

He went over and sat down on the edge of Hiro's bed so that he could keep his eyes on the stairs. And, momentarily forgetting his late-night snack, he sat upright and waited expectantly for his younger brother to come back safe.

And come back he did— but about twenty minutes after Tadashi had decided to wait. The elder was going just about frantic by this point; in fact, he had just been getting up to run down the stairs when he first heard the small pattering of footsteps break the silence of the house. He tensed at once, his throat nearly swelling closed entirely with the relief he experienced upon seeing his brother plod up the staircase. He looked tired, but at first glance, all Tadashi was cared about was the fact that there didn't seem to be any gaping wounds in his skin.

He wasn't sure whether to run up and hug Hiro, or kick him down the stairs. Standing stifling and resolving not to do anything at first, he crossed his arms over his chest and locked his jaw backwards, his expression narrowing in a sense of anger. It was clear by his stance that he was more than cross, but if Hiro noticed when he looked up, the young boy gave no heed. In fact, he had the audacity to look slightly surprised by his brother's being there. His eyebrows arched, and, almost in a sense of innocence, he tilted his head to the side.

For a moment, after Hiro came to a stop at the top of the stairs, the two brothers just stared at one another, completely silent. The younger brother spoke up first, his eyes flickering down to the fruit that was still in Tadashi's hand, only three-fourths of the way eaten. "We have apples?" he asked.

"This is a peach." Tadashi's voice was flat.

Hiro perked, his eyes narrowing in the attempt to see the piece of fruit better. "…Are you sure?"

"Hiro, where have you been?" Tadashi demanded, not at all in the mood to mess around. This could be a lemon for all he cared. His little brother blinked rapidly in surprise at the sudden demand, but the other only pressed. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" Hiro rolled his eyes, giving a large huff in reply, but Tadashi ignored it, only stepping to the side as Hiro brushed his way into the room and towards his bed. "Hiro, if I've told you once, I've probably told you a thousand times: you need to stop messing around down here! You're gonna get yourself arrested! Don't you know Bot Fighting is illegal?"

Hiro turned to look back at him, putting his hands on his hips. "Bot Fighting is _not_ illegal!" he blustered. "Betting on Bot Fighting…" he trailed off, frowning. Then he shook his head, waving it off dismissively. "That's—that's illegal. But _so_ lucrative!" He brightened like a lightbulb, reaching back into his jacket and displaying a fat wad of money to his brother like one would a medal or an award. "Look at all the money I got! And this is just from tonight! I'm on a roll!"

"You're on something all right," Tadashi grumbled, still not assured in the slightest. "But it's nothing good."

Hiro rolled his eyes again, smirking. "Har-har," he chuffed, turning to his desk and dropping Megabot down randomly. But Tadashi noticed that his little brother took care in depositing the money in one of the drawers underneath. "And here I was thinking you stayed up for me because you missed my lovely company." He spun around on his toe and offered Tadashi a smug little grin. "I'll make sure to remember that I'm not special next time around."

Tadashi snorted, finally beginning to cave. He walked over and reached out, ruffling Hiro's hair in a fond manner. "Yeah whatever. You're a whole different kind of special, you knucklehead." Hiro stuck his tongue out, and Tadashi decided that, at least right now, it would be pointless to go over it all. It was too late and it was obvious that Hiro wasn't going to listen. He never did really, but he was even less inclined to lend an ear when he had a 'good night', as he termed it. And he didn't like to yell— yelling made Hiro even less willing to cooperate.

He did try one last time to linger on the issue, though he kept his voice neutral and collected. "Just keep yourself out of trouble, alright? For everyone's sake."

Hiro was unfazed— his bright attitude did not skip a beat. "Yeah, of course. Totally. I'm fine. Don't worry." He shoved his hands into his pockets and started to head down for the stairs. "I'm gonna take a shower real quick; don't wait up for me. Unless you feel like lecturing again for a few more hours." He added this teasingly, in a way that helped Tadashi to grin wryly rather than to grow aggressive. Of course, he harbored a soft spot when it came to his brother as well, so it was a weakness on his part at the same time.

He stepped to the side so that Hiro could go to the downstairs bathroom. His eyes were trained on the young boy as he traipsed downstairs, and he did not move until the younger disappeared from view. Then he turned, walking over to the boy's desk and fiddling briefly with the robot he had made. But his interest was more in what resided inside of the desk. With a heavy heart, he leaned down and opened the drawer that Hiro had put his winnings inside, heaving a sigh at the sight of all the other bills that had been crammed in alongside.

There was a lot— probably hundreds if not thousands of dollars. Tadashi could tell just by looking at this stash that there was no easy way to this thing. Hiro was getting more and more involved in this— the more his prize money went up, the more danger he was putting himself in. In getting caught by the police, or even getting hurt by someone else. But the more his winnings grew, the less willing he would be to cooperate. How was he supposed to make this work before something bad happened?

The elder Hamada brother sighed, ducking his head and closing his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose and willed himself patience. He would stop worrying right now— it was near one in the morning by this point, and all he wanted to do was just go to sleep. He turned and tossed the remains of his peach into the nearest trashcan, weaving around Hiro's bed and delving into his own. If he could stop worrying, then maybe he would be able to finally sleep. It had just been a long day. But Professor Callaghan has said that his project was near flawless, and Hiro was back safe and sound this time around. So, at least for right now, he could stop worrying. And when it came to Hiro and his situation, he just had to keep in mind what the professor had said— it would all turn out okay.

Everything would be fine.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

The next time, things weren't as simple.

It was about a week or two later, and Tadashi was seated on the edge of his bed. He was sketching a few new ideas he was thinking of adding to his project— in grading its project a few days ago, Callaghan had mentioned a few improvements that could be added. Taking those into consideration, he was hard at work— so hard at work in fact, that he hardly noticed the time. He was so engrossed in his notes and bullet points that he was only roused by the small click of a door closing from downstairs. But when he did hear the click, and when he did look up from his notebook, he realized two things simultaneously.

One is that it was 1:15 in the morning. Two was that Hiro was not home yet.

Tadashi was immediately on his feet and walking towards the stairs, admonishing himself mentally for not paying more attention. After everything, how in the world could he have been as stupid as to not realize that his brother was still not home? Stupid, stupid, stupid! He thought of flying down the staircase; it had to be Hiro, right? Unless it was an axe-wielding murderer, then Hiro was the only option. But at the last second he contained himself, keeping rooted where he was rather than rushing into the situation head-first. It wasn't uncommon for Hiro to come back this late, after all. Maybe it was fine. Just another…well, he didn't know— maybe Hiro was just out late on a 'winning' streak.

A swamp of relief washed over Tadashi from head to toe as the form of his little brother began to plod up the steps. He looked tired at first— his shoulders hunched and his head ducked low. It made sense too; it was way too late for anybody to be up. But as he got closer, Tadashi realized with a stab of horror that the source of his brother's slump was not from exhaustion— it was from something completely different. "Hiro!" he cried out, his eyes widening at the sight that met him.

A bruise was fostering itself on Hiro's cheek, the skin looking swollen in comparison to what it normally was. But even that wasn't what Tadashi was focused on. Hiro's arm was raised halfway, pressed up to his face, which was creased over in a tight flinch. The sleeve of his jacket was splotched over in red, a dark contrast against the blue fabric. His nose was bleeding— gushing blood. In his hand was Megabot, but no money whatsoever. At Tadashi's shout, Hiro straightened, immediately freezing under his elder brother's stare.

His eyes widened, and his arm dropped quickly to his side. The front of his face was crusted over in dried blood, the skin around the wound red and irritated. Quickly, as Hiro realized that Tadashi was quickly reddening in rage and concern, he yelled: "It's not as bad as it looks!" He pressed his arm up to his nose a second time, but he grimaced and quickly pulled it away again. "Really, it stopped hurting ten minutes ago! And most of this is just from—"

Tadashi wasn't even paying attention. "Hiro, you'd better tell me what happened!" It was near impossible to keep himself from screaming; he almost felt like he would explode from the mere sight of his brother. But he managed to keep himself in check, knowing that Aunt Cass was fast asleep by this point. And if she was woken up to see Hiro, then all hell would break loose. Then they would have the police barging into their house in less than five seconds. Not to mention the S.W.A.T. team and the F.B.I. Nonetheless, he shook his head quickly. "You have two seconds, or I'm getting Aunt Cass."

"I-It's nothing!" Hiro protested. "It was just— it was some sore loser." His tone dripped with venom and irritation rather than the fright or embarrassment that Tadashi had been hoping to hear. The younger shook his head, flinching as he tried to move past him. "He just…got _angry_ because I beat him too many times. He was a jerk. Can you just— can you _move_ please? I just want to—"

"You just want to what, Hiro?" Tadashi asked, unable to keep his voice from escalating into a sharp snap. Hiro jerked backwards, as if he had been smacked across the face. He opened his mouth halfway as if to reply, but it seemed as though he couldn't get anything out. The older brother sighed, exasperated as he ran his hands through his hair. Hunching over, he rushed towards Hiro, grabbing him by the shoulders and leaning down so that he could get a closer look at the child. His face was torn between anger, fear, and concern. He wasn't sure which one was more prominent. Heaving a shaky sigh, the elder lifted Hiro's chin to see him better. Weakly, he asked: "Don't you see how bad this is?"

Hiro growled, backing out of Tadashi's grip and swatting his arms away. "If you're going to yell at me, you might as well just save it," he all but snarled. "I'm not in the mood to hear you yell." He shoved past his brother roughly and made for his desk, flinging his robot down in its usual spot. Though the motion exuded much more anger than it normally did. "It's what you _always_ do; can you not just _save it_ for _once_ in your life?"

Tadashi sighed weakly. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. When he spoke next, his voice was deflated— almost tired. "Hiro, I don't mean to yell at you a lot. It's just…I _care_ about you. And to see you…hurt, or in trouble…I just can't handle that, okay? I can't handle it, and you know that Aunt Cass can't either." Hiro still looked angry, his lips slightly pursed as he kept where he was. Pressing on, he tried again: "Look, just let me clean you up. Or at least help you. You can't go to bed with all that blood on your face."

Hiro was stubborn. "I can do it myself."

"I didn't say you couldn't, I just said that I would want to help you," Tadashi replied immediately.

Hiro bristled. He held his older brother's gaze, his expression sour. But Tadashi stared just as steadily back. If he couldn't persuade the thick-headed kid, then he was definitely going to help him with this. If it was the only thing he could do, then there was no question. Hiro seemed to realize this after a moment or two, the boy's expression melting as he slouched. "Okay," he mumbled, his voice slightly reluctant. "Fine." His hands were shoved into his pockets, and, his expression sobering, he turned and started glumly for the stairs.

Tadashi shook his head, leaning out stopping the boy short. "Here— let's get this off," he said, indicating the boy's hoodie, whose sleeve was matted and dark with blood. Hiro blinked, looking surprised at the amount that had been absorbed in the fabric. And, thankfully, he actually complied, stepping back and wriggling out of the mess. Tadashi took it from him and deposited it on the ground, making a mental note to wash it when they got back, before Aunt Cass woke up. Again— the less she knew about this, the better.

He made sure that Hiro was following and led the way down to the bathroom. From there he could use a washcloth to get all the blood cleaned off. Maybe scrounge together pain medication; combined with the nose and the bruised cheek, Hiro had to be in a world of pain. Or at least…a neighborhood of pain. Glancing over at him as they veered down the hall, Tadashi had to bring himself to ask: "But you're still not going to stop, are you?" he asked.

Hiro was quiet for a while. His response came only when they got into the tiled room and over the sink. "Why should I?" The question was asked almost innocently, without understanding or concept. At first Tadashi was too floored to reply; he was kidding, right? How could he be so smart and so stupid at the same time!? Tadashi started to reply, feeling a lecture brewing in the pit of his stomach like a storm. But seeing his brother's stare – blank and apathetic – he knew that there was no point.

Frustration burned like fire underneath his skin. Hiro had gotten hurt and it still didn't seem to change his mind and let him see that this whole… _lifestyle_ was dangerous! What would it take!? Right now it seemed like nothing would work. Nothing could get through that thick skull of his little brother's. Bypassing the lecture with a heavy sigh of anger, he just shook his head, grabbing up the nearest washcloth and wetting it down. He used the rag to dab carefully at Hiro's face, trying his best not to aggravate the wounds that were already there.

Every gentle rub earned a grumble or hiss of pain from his little brother. The nose wasn't broken, no; but it was badly injured. His squeaks and noises of pain twisted Tadashi's gut painfully, but he tried his best to keep it to himself. He just concentrated on cleaning up the mess that Hiro had created. And trying not to imagine what would have happened to his baby brother if the beating he had taken had not ended there.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Yes; these changes are just what I asked for. Good work, Mister Hamada." The praise was warm, approval alive in every syllable of his words. "Good to see that some of my students actually manage to listen every once and a while." The last part was added teasingly as he offered the young man a quick smile. The student beamed widely at the commendation, taking the sketches back and making a mental note to start working on the alterations as soon as he could.

"Thank you, Professor," he said, thrilled. His eyes flickering over the notes one last time, he started to back away from the desk so that he could turn out into the hall. "I really appreciate it." Right about now his friends were probably waiting for him; they had made plans to go out to eat lunch today and he was already beginning to run late. However as soon as he turned and started for the door of the classroom, he was stopped short.

"Mister Hamada, I must ask…" The boy straightened, blinking as he was brought to a stop instead. He glanced over at the clock, feeling a twinge at the time that stared back at him. But he couldn't just leave— not after asking the man to look over his work.

So he stayed put. "Yes sir?" he asked, one hand clenching over the strap of his bag a little self-consciously.

"I was going to ask about your brother Hiro," Professor Callaghan elaborated, turning to organize his desk as he spoke. "How has that situation been going? You were having quite a bit of trouble with him before; is all of that still going on?" He gathered together ungraded tests, organizing them together and making sure that they were even with one another. "I worry personally about all of my students, and you are no exception to that rule. I would like to know how you are getting along with him if you would allow me to do so."

Tadashi sobered, blinking rapidly as he straightened. "Oh…oh, um…" He blanched, grasping for a reply that would be suitable enough. "H-He's…" He frowned, stuffing his hands down into his pockets with a small sigh. Callaghan looked up from his work with this sound, seeming concerned as he leaned forward, his chin balanced on the tops of his knuckles. Tadashi shook his head in the attempt to clear it. "If I'm being honest…it really kind of hasn't." He offered a shrug. "Hiro's just…a really stubborn kid. I wish he wasn't, but…just nothing I say will get through to him."

Professor Callaghan nodded slowly. Though the look on his face was quite the opposite of what Tadashi had expected— rather than looking grave or concerned, there was something akin to fondness in the older man's eyes. "I see. Well…like I said, you don't need to worry. My daughter Abigail was out sometimes from sundown to sunup— but she was a very resourceful and tenacious young girl. Your brother is probably exactly the same from what I hear you tell your friends."

Tadashi hesitated. But after a moment he seemed to recover himself, a smile spreading over his features at the notion of his sibling. "He is, sir. He's very bright— very intelligent. Aunt Cass swears that he'll win some huge award someday, and I can't really disagree. He can be _really_ smart when he chooses to be, right? I know that he's capable and that he can probably get out of any knot you put him in. But it's just— you can never be absolutely _sure_. What if he meets someone out there who's smarter? What if he needs me and I can't be there for him? I just wish that he could understand…"

Professor Callaghan was nodding. But he remained collected even as he replied. "Your concern is warranted, of course. But you have to remember that you can only do so much for him. Hiro is a child, and a stubborn one at that. Abigail never listened to me, and her attitude only got worse whenever I scolded her. But her 'rebellious' phase was short-lived, I can tell you that much. She came to her senses on her own and realized there was more to life than journeying downtown and getting into a mess of unneeded trouble. She turned her sights onto better things, and that'll be exactly what Hiro does as well. But I think for now you should let him go on. Lashing out, or micromanaging, will only make it worse."

Tadashi pursed his lips, hesitating for a moment or two. But after the brief pause he realized that there really wasn't much he could say in objection. The advice was pretty clear-cut; as per usual when it came to the teacher, there weren't any lapses in knowledge or wisdom. He brightened significantly as he gave a nod. "You're right, Professor. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink." Professor Callaghan grinned in agreement at the old saying. "He'll come around, I've got to believe that. Hopefully it won't be too much longer, though. He'll give me gray hairs by the time I graduate."

The professor chuckled. "How do you think I got all of these?" he asked, gesturing to his own head of hair with the inquiry. "You are in the unfortunate position of having to deal with this kind of stuff much earlier than I had to. But that just means that you'll have practice by the time you actually get children of your own." Tadashi's smile got a touch more awkward at the suggestion, and Callaghan waved the jab off dismissively. "Nevertheless. Don't worry Tadashi. He'll realize that he needs to do the right thing; just give him time."

Tadashi smiled. "Yes, sir. And thank you. Really— I mean it."

Callaghan met Tadashi's friendly stare with his own. "Any time, Mister Hamada."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Thank you for cleaning up after dinner, honey," Aunt Cass gushed, a gentle smile spread over her face as she leaned over and gave her older nephew a tight hug. Tadashi stiffened, his cheeks blowing out slightly as he hunched over, trying to allow himself to breathe underneath her hold. She was actually much stronger than she looked at first glance. "You're such a hard worker!" Offering him a peck on the cheek – a motion that caused blush to spring across Tadashi's face – the brunette started to take the washed dishes and stack them into the cabinet.

"No, no, don't worry about putting anything away, I've got it," Tadashi assured, nudging her hands away gently. "You cooked dinner— the least I could do is take care of the rest. Didn't you mention something about giving Mochi a bath? You go ahead and do that; I'm sure he's super excited." From where the cat sat near the dining table, he straightened, whipping around to look at Tadashi as he heard his name. The animal soured, obviously not liking the pairing of 'Mochi' with 'bath' thanks to a history of knowledge. He got up, obviously preparing to slink away from the situation and find a hiding spot.

But Aunt Cass was too quick for him. "Right! That's what I forgot! C'mere, Mochi! Good boy, we're gonna have a bath!" Cooing loudly, the woman caught up to the cat before he could dart away. Scooping the feline up in her arms, and turned and smiled sweetly at her oldest nephew. "Thank you, Tadashi." The older Hamada brother nodded in response before going down to his dishes. He was attempting to scrub away a particularly sticky piece of food when there was a series of light footsteps coming down the steps.

He turned and glanced over his shoulder, turning fully once he caught sight of his little brother. Hiro blinked, hesitating on the last stair as he became aware of Tadashi's gaze zeroing in on him. But after a space of reluctance, he turned hopped down to the floor, swinging his arms loosely as he started slowly for the other set of stairs. Tadashi's gaze hardened, not having to wonder at all where his younger brother was going.

Hiro paused, one hand on the railing of the steps as his head tilted to the side. "What? No lecture?" He asked, souring teasing and flippant. When Tadashi didn't reply, Hiro crossed his arms over his chest, raising his eyebrows. "Somebody's touchy. Who peed in your cheerios?"

"You know what, Hiro, I'm not really in the mood to talk or anything," Tadashi sighed. "I know where you're going to go, and I know there's no point in trying to persuade you into _not_ going. So…that's that."

Hiro leaned back into his hips, a smile still threatening the edges of his lips. "You're not going to say _anything_ at all?" When Tadashi shook his head, he suppressed a laugh. "Aw, I thought that was our _thing_. Like our…brother trademark. Now what will it be?"

"Hiro this isn't really something to laugh about, so if you could stop, that'd be great."

The teenager's face fell at the flatness of his brother's tone. He blinked, glancing from the stairs to Tadashi, frowning now. "I was just joking," he mumbled. "Trying to lighten the mood."

"What's the point?" Tadashi asked, his voice almost scathing with how uncaring it was.

Hiro soured a little bit now. "Hey what's your _problem_?" he demanded.

Tadashi turned back to face him now. "I was just about to ask you the same question, okay?" he asked, his voice still flat. It held no anger, but it might as well have by the look on Hiro's face. It wasn't as if it was uncalled for though— for Tadashi to do anything _but_ support him was wildly out of the ordinary. The teenager had no idea _what_ to do other than just stand and stare as if he had been offended. "But there would be no point to it, right?" Tadashi continued. "You don't care how this makes me feel; or how it makes Aunt Cass feel. You don't stop to think about what Mom or Dad would say about what you're doing. So there's no point in fighting anymore, right?"

Hiro drew back slightly. "That's unfair…"

"Is it?" Tadashi asked, his voice remaining blank.

But the boy's reply was instantaneous. "Yeah; it is. It's _really_ unfair."

He shrugged again, remembering himself to keep to Callaghan's advice. "Oh well."

Hiro's eyes narrowed slightly. He shifted from foot to foot and then opened his mouth as if to give some scathing retort. But he took it back at the last second. Instead he turned around and went down the steps, not throwing a second glance at his older brother as he made for the door. Tadashi's heart was heavy as he listened to his brother leave, at how his footsteps were now heavy and weighted down in indignant anger. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, grimacing tiredly as the front door opened and slammed shut. "That didn't go too well…" he mumbled. "Maybe that was the wrong thing to do…"

But no sooner did the thought cross his mind did he shoo it away. What else could he have done?

He let out a heavy breath of air, shaking his head as he turned back to the water-logged sink. He made a resolution to himself that if Hiro wasn't back within three hours, then he would track him down and bring him home instead of just waiting like he had been. Maybe he could just try and explain himself a little bit more. When Professor Callaghan had given him a roadmap of how to handle the situation, he didn't realize that actually going through with it would be this difficult. He didn't _like_ having Hiro be mad at him; that just wasn't how things worked.

He sighed and shook his head in the attempt to clear it. He glanced over to the clock and made a mental note of the time. When it was 11:02, and if Hiro was still gone, then he would set off after him. He'd find him and maybe explain himself. It was all he could do at this point, really. He didn't need to worry. He just had to trust that Hiro would handle himself. Heck— maybe he would even be back before eleven and Tadashi wouldn't have to do anything. Except apologize, of course. And explain himself a little better if he could.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Fives fights. Hiro had won five fights in a row before he decided that enough was enough. He was starting to feel those angry stares bore into his back from people whose bots he had destroyed, and he could feel the tension starting to fizzle and crack in the air. It's what happened when he kept knocking person after person down— they started to get sore and irritated that a kid had beaten them. Usually he paid no mind to them. Why should he worry about what some adult felt when they clearly couldn't fight a puppy with their bot?

But after the beating he had taken a while ago, he decided that he didn't want to deal with any of it. Especially tonight. He was still vexed from the scene that had unfolded when he had been leaving the house. Tadashi hadn't ever really acted like that to him before— he was cold and harsh almost. Usually he was the exact opposite. It left Hiro feeling…weird. He could handle Tadashi yelling, sure. Frankly, he did it all the time. But acting…like _that_? It was just… _weird_. It left him feeling _weird_ , and he didn't like that.

So he drew back from the ring after a while, not really feeling as engaged in the fighting as he usually was. It wasn't fun tonight, so he might as well just turn and head home. Gathering up Megabot and stuffing his prize money down into his jacket pocket, he turned and started back the way he had come. Bot Fights usually took place around a dark corner or in the farthest edge of a back alleyway. In this case it was the latter, and Hiro started weaving through the crowd in order to go back to the main road. From there he could start back for the café.

The young boy ignored the calls that were directed over to him – some mean, some supporting – and kept to himself. It was what he typically took to when it came to these things. He wasn't a 'social butterfly' in regular situations, and his social skills weren't really that inclined to raise when he was put into a place like this. It was quite the opposite really. Keeping his head down and Megabot close to his chest it took him only about a minute to break out to the sidewalk again. Reaching back and drawing his hood up and over his head, the kid looked left and right, biting down on his lower lip. But he remembered the direction quickly and set for the left.

Starting to walk, he looked down and checked his wristwatch. It was almost 11:00 p.m.; he was exhausted. He just wanted to lay down and go to sleep. Usually he was pretty good about staying up, but after doing so for – how many? – weeks, it was getting harder and harder. He was probably going to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and he was bound to stay asleep until about noon. And maybe he just wouldn't go out tomorrow night; he could stay inside instead and maybe…maybe Aunt Cass would want to watch a movie or something. If he didn't go out, then Tadashi wouldn't be angry at him, right?

So then he wouldn't go out tomorrow night. And if it really makes a difference, and if Tadashi would stop being so… _odd_ in response to it…maybe—

He couldn't finish the thought. He didn't have the chance to. Before he could land to the conclusion that he was slowly building up to, an excruciating pain suddenly slammed directly into him. It inserted first into his spine, but then another dose was stabbed through his leg, which immediately buckled underneath the disarming agony. He couldn't even scream; it was too quick of a thing to react to, and it immediately took his breath away on impact. He had nothing left to do but collapse, his leg and back absolutely screeching in anguish.

He hit the ground with a thud, a low groan the only noise that could squeeze itself out of his windpipe. For a minute he was too stunned to register anything but the pain that was throbbing rapidly into life. His eyes were wide and dilated, and he strained to choke air down into his lungs, which seemed almost paralyzed. But gradually, though adrenaline still flooded through his bloodstream, Hiro began to come back to himself. It was bright all of a sudden— really, really bright. A harsh yellow gleam pooled over him, and it didn't take the boy long to realize that he had been hit by a car.

The vehicle door opened and closed with a slam, and Hiro registered a series of footsteps rushing towards him. The boy tried to move, but he flinched, cringing deep into himself as his body creaked and whined in protest. He gasped sharply, tears springing into his eyes. He started to try again, wheezing now as his breath began to come back to him bit by bit. But before he could, there were hands on his shoulders, and he was being turned manually.

He was shifted carefully onto his back; the boy blinked rapidly, struggling to clear the dots that were currently swarming his vision. Frazzled, he struggled to collect himself. He could see the lights of the city around him, yes. And he could feel the ground underneath him. _Did I...did I go into the road? W-When?_ _How did…?_ He was moved again, scraped in a way that whoever was hunched over him was now holding him. His body immediately went into a spasm of pain, and the young boy's face creased over in agony as a whimper was wrenched out of his throat.

"Shhh…" Hiro twitched at an unfamiliar voice— the owner of the car had just run over him. Had it been him that got in the way? Had they just not been paying attention? What was wrong with his back— what was wrong with his leg? Could he move his leg? He was in too much pain to try and figure anything like that out. For a minute or two he was just pinned underneath the weight of pain that a blossoming underneath his skin.

But little by little the initial shock of the blow cleared and he could make sense of things. He was barely in the street where he was lying right now— certainly he hadn't been far enough into the road to warrant getting ran over? The person, whoever they were, was trying to help him apparently, going by the grip that was currently on the young boy's frame. They were in the middle of talking, it sounded like, but Hiro obviously had not been able to hear them from the get-go. Though, taking judgement into account, that part probably didn't matter. "…so sorry! I wasn't even paying attention to where I was going! I was just so…I was looking down at my phone and…" Hiro flinched as another jolt of pain burned up his leg, the young boy forced to gnash his teeth together to keep back a screech of agony. Seeing the motion, the person went on hurriedly: "I am so sorry! You have no idea…"

His eyes were watering from the pain, but despite the fact, Hiro was able to make out the details of whoever had literally introduced him the pavement. They seemed kind of old— their look gave off the vibe of either an old dad or a new grandfather. It was quite clear by the look on their face that they were panicked; with good reason, of course. They had nearly killed a kid just because they weren't paying attention. When Hiro only gave another low groan, the person seemed to perk, stiffening as they asked urgently: "What's your name?"

Hiro's voice was clenched and restrained when he managed a reply. It could only be released through gritted teeth, lest it came out in a scream. "Hiro Hamada." The last syllable sharpened a little bit, a flash of pain lancing up his spine as he was moved slightly. Really, he just wanted to ask whoever this was to stop touching him. One: being held by a stranger wasn't really at the top of your list of 'Awesome Things to Do over your Weekend.' Two: this guy wasn't all that great at the whole 'let's not move him so he's not in even _more_ pain' kind of thing. Trying to keep his voice level but being painfully aware of how shaky and rough it was, Hiro asked slowly: "Could you…could you put me down please?"

The person either didn't hear his mumble, or they deemed it unimportant. "Here, Hiro, let me take you to a hospital." When it was clear that the boy was preparing to object, they only pushed. "Listen, I just ran you over, the least I could do is take you to a hospital and make sure that you're taken care of. You look to be in a lot of pain— please, let me take you to the hospital. I'll pay for everything, just let me take you. Will you let me take you?"

Hiro started to object again. This guy might look like a wise dad, or some goofy grandpa, but it still didn't alter the fact that the boy didn't know him. He couldn't just get in the car with him and let him go wherever. Ever since preschool he had been taught the golden rule of 'Stranger Danger.' But then again, his preschool teacher had not covered the basis of what to do after you had just been run over and were now rendered motionless. Oddly enough, if such a topic were to be squeezed in, the lecture would have probably run into finger-painting time.

There wasn't a lot he could debate against. Either this guy took him to the hospital, or Hiro crawled home and faced the wrath of not only Tadashi, but Aunt Cass too. When Hiro had been in high school, he had gotten punched in the shoulder by an older kid and Aunt Cass had gone straight to the principal and screamed for a good twenty minutes. Imagine the hell she could raise with something like _this_. And even if he tried to get home by himself, he wasn't even sure this guy would let him. He had enough guilt in his eyes to flood the Pacific Ocean. And if he was paying, then what was the problem with going to the hospital? The pain was killing him and he had only been experiencing it for about two minutes now.

But something still bit at him.

"M'fine," he rasped, starting to move out from the person's arms. Each slight, small movement caused his muscles and bones to shriek back at him, pleading for him to just lay down. He was choking back the need to cry out as he started to sit up. He had never been hit by a car before, and he was quickly realizing that this was going to henceforth be a 'One Time Only' ordeal. How fast was this person even _driving_? Two-hundred and fifty miles per hour!? "I just need to get home."

Predictably, the other would not have it. They reached out, steadying Hiro as the boy faltered mid-push. The boy blinked rapidly, his eyesight wavering and his head throbbing. The pain seated in his back was like a knife by now, and he could only imagine what his leg would feel like when he stood up. "Let me take you to the hospital, please." They had resorted to begging by now. Hiro's head was hung, and as he stared down at the road, he could feel his stomach clench and heave. He felt like he was going to be sick. "It's right down the street— just a few minutes away. Please just let me take you to the hospital?"

 _Was_ it only a few minutes? Hiro couldn't remember where he was at the moment.

The boy agonized for a long moment, both mentally and physically. But eventually he could do nothing but cave. He couldn't make it home on his own, and if they went to the hospital, then he could ask the people there to call Aunt Cass. It was just a few minutes away, right? It had to be. "Fine." The singular word was barely an exhale. When the other person did nothing at first, just stared at him, Hiro raised his voice and said a little louder: "Okay. Take me."

The person seemed wildly relieved by the acceptance. "Okay," they said, their expression slowly growing less weighted down. "Okay, here. Just…stay still. I'll just pick you up and take you to my car, then, okay? We can go to the hospital and from there I bet you've got someone you can call." Slightly reassured by the fact that they were on the same page, Hiro complied and remained still as he was scooped up. The person turned and headed to back to their car, leaning over and opening the passenger side door. From there they placed Hiro gently in the seat, the teenager hissing sharply as his leg was bumped and jarred. Again, the person grimaced and said in a rush: "Sorry, sorry; I'm sorry. Hang on."

They shut the car door and rounded to the other side in less than three seconds, Hiro's pain-filled gaze tracking them as they went. Sliding into the seat beside him and turning the engine back on, the old dad/young grandfather turned and looked at him anxiously, Hiro having turned and looked down at himself in disbelief by this point. The palms of his hands were bleeding after they had scraped across the sidewalk. His very bones felt bruised, and after being winded to such a harsh degree, his breathing came in the form of small wheezes. His back was being stabbed, and his eyes refusing to stop watering in response to the pain, though such a thing was trivial. He was kind of impressed that he wasn't screaming uncontrollably at this point. Though he could not hold back the occasional whimper or groan that squeezed out from his throat.

"Here." Hiro was roused once again by the person, and this time there was no mistaking the sorrowfully-guilty tone to their voice. It was thick enough to swim in. It was enough to make Hiro feel bad for _them_. "I have some— I always keep some Tylenol on me. For the arthritis. Do you want some? You look in an awful amount of pain; I just feel so bad…"

"I'm okay," Hiro mumbled. "Just…just get me to the hospital, I'll be fine. I don't need any…"

"…Are you sure?" The teenager cringed, feeling a tide of frustration rise up in the back of his throat at the person's voice. They sounded like some kind of kicked puppy. Geez— you think if they would get so worked up over something like this, they would be much more alert when actually _driving_! He gave a small huff, took one last double-take, and then figured that the sooner he did it, the sooner the person would actually _make his way to the hospital._ Hiro was _dying_ by this point; certainly the idea of pain medication helped sway him.

Limply, he held out a hand, inwardly scowling. A few seconds later and two small tablets were shaken out into place. Hiro brought his arm back about and was about to knock the medicine back when he paused and took it upon himself to actually look at what he had been given. He wasn't a medical expert, so really the effort was probably wasted. But at least he knew that he shouldn't be eating something that's like…rainbow-colored or purple. If he even had to worry about that with this person. But this person resembled more of a grandparent who would go to their granddaughter's dance recital. Not anything…weird.

Sure enough, they looked pretty normal. They were circular. White. That was enough, right?

He told himself to stop worrying. He opened his mouth and swallowed back the capsules.

For a while the ride was silent. Hiro blinked few times before slouching to the side and leaning against the car door. The only sound was the rev of the engine and the squeak of the brakes every so often as they stopped at red lights. After the initial quiet, the person spoke up, attempting to make conversation. "So…I am assuming that you have a family, Hiro?"

"Of course I do." The reply was rather stiff.

"Well, a young boy like you in the streets, at a time of night like this. Can't really blame me for doubting," the person said quickly. Hiro didn't reply, only staring straight ahead. Another long stretch of silence. Then: "So you do have one then? What are they like? Who's in it?"

Hiro's reply was quick. "Didn't you say that hospital was just a few minutes away?"

"Well, it's only been about three or four…" the person replied, seeming confused.

Hiro didn't reply.

…

"So what were you doing out this late, then?" the person hedged on.

"What were _you_ doing out this late?" the teenager growled, wincing at a twinge in his back.

"I was just running to the store. My wife wanted ice cream, and she told me to hurry, so…"

"So you drove like a _maniac_ ," Hiro grumbled.

The person didn't reply. Hiro felt a mix of satisfaction and regret.

…

"You never answered my question," the old dad/new grandfather piped up.

Hiro shook his head. "Look, can we just stop talking? I just want to…" He blinked rapidly, his forehead creasing slightly in confusion. The person blinked, turning and looking over at him in a confused manner. The boy cringed, swallowing thickly as he was suddenly forced to concentrate in order to do so. He started to push off the wall of the car when he suddenly realized that his body didn't react as well to the commands his brain was dishing out. It felt heavy. Weird. And immediately Hiro's thoughts flew to the medicine that he had taken.

 _No…no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!_

He turned, forcing his arm to get up off of the floor, the effort making it seem like weights were strapped to the limb as he fumbled for the door handle. "Let me out," he said, his voice heightening with panic. "Let me out, I want out of the car! Don't take me to the hospital, here is fine! Stop the car; let me out!" His vowels were mushing together— slurring as if he was speaking around a mouthful of cotton. He shook his head to try and clear it, but his eyesight just got fuzzier and fuzzier. Against himself, he began to panic. And panic a _lot_. "Let me out! _Open the door_!" It was locked, but as he turned and tried to fumble at the locking mechanism, he couldn't seem to get his fingers to cooperate with what he was trying to do.

"Shhh, Hiro it's alright. Stop yelling!" the person urged. The boy thought he felt a hand on his back, but he couldn't be sure. He had fallen still, his limbs suddenly refusing to work as they sputtered out of life. His head was heavy and the teenager began to loll forward against the dashboard, his stomach knotting as a nauseated feeling rose up to cloud the rest of his senses. His eyes fluttered, unable to stay open despite how much he was fighting.

His lips barely moving, but panic still dim in the back of his eyes, he slurred: "What's…I don't…"

The person glanced at him and offered the boy a small smile. "Don't worry," they assured. "You're fine." Hiro blinked groggily, his mouth halfway open as blackness started to edge around his vision. "Everything's going to be just fine. You'll see."

Hiro's neck went slack, his head hanging low. His heartbeat was slow in his ears by this point, and his eyelids slammed darkness all around him. Weakly, pitifully, he tried one last attempt at fumbling at the door, though his fingers were barely able to graze their goal. Instead he was limp, quickly falling unconscious from whatever thing he had assumed was regular pain medication. "Tad…" Why couldn't he move? What was going on? Who was this? Where were they taking him? _Why_ were they taking him? _What was going on?_

The boy's face creased over in fear and panic, though distantly, as it was delivered through the drugs that were apparently in his system. Just before he was pulled under the full effects, he slurred out the only thing that, to his knowledge, could possibly help him at the moment.

"Tadashi…"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: Have you made it this far? If you've made it this far, I am very impressed! I suck at writing like…beginnings and summaries…so…

Thank you very much for taking the time to read this! It's a new idea for a story I've been cooking up, so any feedback at all would be greatly appreciated to see whether or not this could be a full-fledged new project. The inspiration for this story came through the form of a book and a movie I have recently watched, so I'm super excited to get to work on it. Anything you guys have to say would really make a world of difference to me!

Hopefully this can be a rather long project to run with! And if such a thing is possible, then I look forward to seeing you all next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

The aroma of waffle batter and maple syrup was heavy in the air, like a warm blanket on a chilly autumn day. It was comforting, as was the small clanging and stirring of pots and pans as Aunt Cass milled about the kitchen. It was early; it wasn't too early for the sun to be up, but it was definitely too early to go upstairs and wake the kids. Well, she could probably wake Tadashi, but Hiro would definitely throw a fit. Last time that she had tried to get him up before eight he had spent the next hour and a half slugging around the house whining under his breath. She figured that once she got breakfast all ready, it might be easier to get the younger boy peppy and bright.

She would find out soon enough, she guessed. The woman had woken up a bit earlier than she typically did, so in turn she was trying to take her time in cooking. Having each bowl for each person in their family, she was taking care in making everyone's favorites. In her own bowl, she sprinkled cinnamon; in Tadashi's, she added blueberries; in Hiro's, she dumped as many chocolate chips into the batter as she could. She was on to stirring, waiting for the waffle iron to heat up so that she could actually begin to cook them.

You would really think that a seasoned chef like her – though she did not often toot her own horn – would be better at keeping themselves clean when dealing with things like this. Yellow batter and even some flour was smeared on her clothes; she'd have to change before starting work. It was no skin off her hide though, she had done it plenty of times before.

Checking on the waffle iron to gauge how hot it had gotten so far, she started to move onto pouring out the batter. She grabbed the bowl that held the batter she deemed 'hers', the woman opening up the device's lid and starting to let the contents spill out onto the hot metal. However, no sooner did she start to lean forward, was her attention suddenly snatched away. She tensed at the sounds of footsteps coming up the stairs, and she immediately drew away from her work.

Concerned, she held the bowl a bit tighter as her eyes fastened on the stairway. She hadn't invited anyone over this morning; was it possible that one of the kids was already up? Maybe Tadashi had gotten up to finish some schoolwork, or get a head start on the day? She couldn't fathom why Hiro would be up and about at a time like this, especially since he wasn't in school. The young boy had come home late before, but never _this_ late. Never _next-morning_ late.

Her suspicions were correct when Tadashi came into view. Aunt Cass beamed, always graced with a smile at the mere sight of either one of her nephews. But the expression weakened somewhat at the realization that her expression was not returned. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Tadashi looked worn-out and haggard; the only explanation for the attributes being that he had not gone to sleep at all. He looked pale and his eyes seemed heavy. Aunt Cass had left him just last night washing dishes. Had he not gone to bed afterwards? And it not, where had he been all the night before?

Tadashi straightened once he saw that Aunt Cass' attention was on him. And the woman was immediately able to pick up on the flash of panic that went through her elder nephew's eyes. It wasn't often that Tadashi looked as if he was keeping something from her, or as if something was wrong with the young man. So as soon as he froze mid-step, the guardian was more than thrown off-balance. "Tadashi?" she demanded at once, her eyes narrowing somewhat at her nephew's small wince. When he made no move whatsoever to reply to her and only held her stare, the brunette only grew more agitated. "Tadashi what's wrong? Don't tell me you were out all night!"

He blanched. He just stared at her.

Oh no. This was it. This was what those…this what all those parents talked about. She should have known that Tadashi was just _too_ perfect, that something was just a little bit too wrong with the equation. _Every_ parent complained about child behavior at some point in their lives, and the woman could tell that this was the dawning of that era— of _her_ era. What was it? Could it be some girl that Aunt Cass had never seen? Or worse, what if it was some fifty year old from New Zealand!? What would Cass do then!? Was he going to sneak out to join up with her and then drop out of college to get married and raise kids that Cass would be forced to finance? What if they gave their children awful names like Barnaby or Fabio? Would she have to pretend to like them? Would she _expected_ to like them? What if she couldn't!? What if she just couldn't get past their hideous names!? What if one of them liked yodeling!? Cass hated yodeling! How often would she have to pretend she didn't hate them!? Would she have to pretend to like them at holidays!? Oh _God_ , what would happen to Christmas!?

"He's gone."

At first she had no idea what Tadashi meant. She was too busy trying to figure out what kind of birthday cakes you make for a kid named Barnaby or Fabio. She stirred, being roused out of her thoughts as she jerked, blinking rapidly. "W-What? Who? Who's gone?" After going so far as to worry about some strange woman and frightening children names and a penniless future, Cass was left confused at the notion that somehow this was about something else entirely. Granted, that probably should have been her first thought upon this whole situation.

Tadashi shook his head in a defeated manner. Aunt Cass realized with a stab of dread that her nephew's eyes were red and raw. He had been crying. And as he looked up to meet her gaze, she could tell that he was struggling not to do so again. Something was wrong— something was definitely wrong. Scrambling to try and figure out what was going on, Cass blinked rapidly, looking from the waffle batter to her nephew, for lack of anything else to do. "You're…you just can't find him?" she asked, blanching in the sudden tide of panic that was now prickling underneath her skin. He shook his head, listless. "Well…well he's been out late before. You shouldn't…you can't just think of the worst case scenario, right…? Maybe he's— he's gotta be just out—"

"I checked, Aunt Cass," Tadashi objected weakly. "I checked all of his normal hiding spots. I spent the entire night out looking for him. He isn't _anywhere_." He shoved his hands into his pockets, but the second he did, he transitioned back to drawing his hands through his hair. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and then looked at his guardian anxiously. "Is he here? Is he— did he come home last night while I was out looking for him?"

Aunt Cass started to reply, but she didn't have a solid answer. Her mouth remained halfway open, her jaw slack. She just stared. Tadashi looked from her, towards the steps that led up to his room. Without saying anything else, he turned and dashed up, leaving her alone again in the kitchen. The woman staggered, still blinking quicker than normal. What was happening? Surely Hiro was just upstairs? If he was out late, maybe he got home at some point in the night and was just sleeping in late now! Tadashi would come down and apologize for getting her so worked up— she would lecture Hiro later and give him a piece of her mind, but at least everything would turn out fine. There was no reason to panic and there was no reason to wonder what to do from this point on. She'd just have to finish making breakfast and that was it.

She looked down at her hands and realized with a jolt that they were trembling. The bowl clasped in between them shook like a maraca. Her body had broken out into tremors; her thoughts were nearly the same. What if Hiro was nowhere to be found? What would they do? What could have happened to him? She pictured her little boy in some alleyway or backlot, and her breath was nearly taken away entirely. What was he doing? Would he be back later? What if he wasn't? What was she supposed to do then?

The woman grimaced, raising her hand and pressing it against her temple with a grimace. She was supposed to take care of her nephews. She had made a promise and a commitment in taking them into her home after their parents passed away. Not only that, but she loved both of the kids as if they had been her own in the first place. The thought of anything happening to them – the mere thought of Hiro being missing – was enough to sink talons in her stomach and twist severely. What could she do? How was she supposed to—?

Footsteps coming back down the steps roused her. She immediately turned, her heart in her throat as Tadashi came back down to her. He stopped on the lowest landing. The woman's hands tightened around the bowl of batter she was holding, and as Tadashi did not speak up immediately after stopping, she took a few quick paces forward, her eyes round and distressed. "Well?" she demanded. Tadashi just stared at her. "Well? Is he up there? Is he asleep?"

The young man did nothing for a heartbeat. He just stared at her, his expression a mixture of a million things at once. Anger, panic, confusion, worry, and most of all, extreme, harrowing sadness. Slowly, after a moment of just looking on, Tadashi shook his head. It was a slow motion, and very slight. But it held everything. Everything that she needed to know. Everything that she was dreading.

There was sound of shattering glass as the bowl slipped out of her grip in between limp fingers.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

For a while he didn't feel much of anything. Was that bad? What were you supposed to feel after something like that happens? Probably panic first. You were probably supposed to immediately start screaming— snap to attention and yell out bloody murder. You probably need to kick and cry and wail aloud at anything and everything. You thrash and wriggle and try to get out of whatever kind of situation you had been thrown into.

But it wasn't anything like that. For a while he just couldn't do anything at all. He was blank. It was like you had been sleeping for five straight years and you were rudely woken up. His mind was empty and foggy; thought was completely out the window as was coordination. It felt like his head was filled with water and he was just trying to wade back into consciousness.

The first thing he experienced wasn't panic. It was just pain. The entire lower half of his back felt like it was on fire, or someone was holding an open flame much too close to his skin. His forehead creased over in the sensation, and a small whimper escaped the confines of his throat. And it was only increased tenfold as the pain wrapping around his leg slowly came into focus as well. He twitched, his muscles straining to fix whatever had gone wrong with his body. The excessive movement didn't help, and the teenager's breathing picked up ever so slightly. Nonetheless, he forced himself to focus on opening his eyes. Maybe if he could just see what was going on…or what was happening now…

His eyesight was blurry and unclear at first. It seemed as though he was underwater, looking up to try and make sense of what was up on the surface. But gradually the smears fell into place and leaked into their according spots. From there, he could separate the tangible from the intangible. He could make sense of the flooring around him— it was just plain wood. Like something you'd find at a log cabin. He could see his legs, and he could see the fact that his left one looked stiff and awkward in comparison to his other. _…Broken?_ _Can…it move? I'm not…_ His thoughts were just as slow as the rest of him.

His head was lolled to the side, his neck as unresponsive as anything else seem to be. So moving it was long and torturous; much harder than it normally was. Like dragging a fifty pound weight, he forced his head into motion, craning his limp neck painfully. His eyes were sparking with life again bit by bit. Whatever was pinning him underneath a weight of incoherence was slowly ebbing off. He could make sense of things, and as he slowly came to know himself and what was around him again, he began to finally reach it.

The panic.

The second he realized he could make connections with what was around him, he immediately wished he hadn't. Because as soon as he did, the panic went wild. It was slow at first, like a spark that quickly blazes out into an inferno. He was tied back, restrained in a way that made moving almost completely impossible. His hands were firm to his sides; rope stretched from his collarbone all the way down to his hips, looped and tied around him far too tightly. As his breathing slowly picked up into a hyperventilation, the rope pressed back against his stomach, crushing his lungs and refusing them the proper gasps of oxygen they were straining for.

He couldn't even lean forward. The most he could do was move his head or kick out with the uninjured leg. Hiro began to wheeze unevenly, his eyes widening as he straightened, looking from his hands, which were clenching and unclenching rapidly, to his chest, which was fully covered in rope. He tried to move, jerking forward in desperation; but the movement only brought unneeded pain to shoot through his back. He cried out sharply, shutting his eyes and drawing back into himself immediately in response to the agony. Now that the fuzziness was slowly clearing from his mind, it was more acute than ever. And certainly too strong to try and ignore.

The only movement available to him was either to twitch or writhe in pain. Amid his panic, the only sound he could make at first was an occasional high whimper. Nonetheless, he tried to stifle his growing fear so that he could look around. Where was he!? Wherever it was, it was unfamiliar. But from what he could gather, it had to be someone's bedroom. Over on the far side of the wall, there was a bed with bright purple sheets, and at least four pillows neatly laying on top. It was neatly made and seemed untouched. The wallpaper was white, with bright pink butterflies flitting here and there, frozen in midflight. They didn't really match the posters that were tacked into place around the area— things like science fair advertisements or college slogans…

There was a vanity over to the side of the room. Hanging in the doorway was a screen of silver beads that knocked against each other softly. A dresser was in the corner by a writing desk that looked like it had a few papers still lying there, waiting to be worked on. With a few different-colored rugs spotted here and there on the wood flooring, the room looked peaceful and cute.

Hiro was out of place.

 _This can't be real. It's a joke, this is just some joke, it's not real; it can't be real, what's even happening!?_ A distressed noise choked at the back of Hiro's throat. He jerked and pulled, his back screaming with the efforts. Tears were quick to sting at his eyes, welling up and leaking down the sides of his face as he fought against his bindings. Looking half-crazed, Hiro began to ramble, his words slurred and shaking. "It's not…it's not funny anymore…" Was this all a joke? A lesson to teach him not to go out and be stupid anymore!? It was working, it was working! "This isn't funny, it isn't funny, it isn't…" His shoulders jerked up and down unevenly, his throat closing in on itself. He pulled and flinched and pulled and flinched and pulled and flinched. "This isn't…Tadashi, this isn't _funny anymore_!"

He abruptly ended with a sharp intake of air, the child freezing as he heard a series of footsteps heading towards him. He shrank back against whatever it was he was strapped to, suddenly realizing that he probably shouldn't have drawn attention to himself. Fright clenched at his throat and he grimaced, drawing his good leg close to his chest. It didn't help his breathing or his back, but it was his first impulse upon hearing that someone was coming.

And come they did. The door was already open, so all they had to do was walk over the threshold. As they hurried into the room, the hanging beads clattered in an annoying, noisy fashion. It was the person from last night— the person that had hit Hiro with their car. Wasn't it? It had to be. They had the same grayish hair and the same type of outfit. In a flash, Hiro recollected himself. He remembered the medicine he had been given, and his reaction to it. The man had said he would take him to the hospital, and that certainly wasn't the case now!

Another involuntary whimper came up from the boy, and he struggled to hunch away as the person approached him quickly. But despite the way he was obviously trying to right the distance between them, the person dropped down into a crouch, hovering in front of him less than three inches away. Noticing he boy's hyperventilation, the older man leaned forward, reaching out and trying to put a hand on the child's shoulder. When Hiro still tried to bend away, he finally spoke. His voice was a small murmur, as if he was trying to calm the boy's shot nerves in some way. "Shhh…shhh, don't be upset. You can calm down."

Hiro's breathing was still erratic, his shoulders even more as he struggled to drink in enough air to satisfy his lungs. When he spoke, his voice was the smallest of whispers, and it shook like a leaf in the wind. "What am I…what am I doing here?" he hissed, immediately regretting the sheer amount of terror in his voice. But it was nearly impossible to control. When the person didn't reply at first, Hiro pressed on, trembling from head to foot. "Why am I tied up? Let me go— get this off of me!" When they still did not react at first, he began to crumble under his horror, beginning to trash against the ropes despite the pain ringing throughout his body. "Get this off, get this off, get this—!"

The person's expression fell somewhat. They resembled someone that had been promised a million dollars and was only given a singular penny. "Hiro, you just have to—"

Maybe it was just the fact that he had been drugged. Maybe it was the rope. Maybe it was the fact that the person was just an inch away from him now. Maybe it was the unfamiliar room. Maybe it was just because of his sheer _lack of knowledge_ of what was going on. But Hiro quickly snapped. It didn't take very long, and when it did happen, it was quick. He went into a quick spasm, his voice suddenly raising into a screech. " _Tadashi! Tadashi, help m—"_

A hand clapped itself quickly over the boy's mouth. The motion was hard and rough— it took the boy by surprise. But it in no way helped to calm him. He just screamed louder, his throat burning under the effort as he continued to screech. The man's eyes narrowed; he had the audacity to look angry over the child's yelling. "Hiro!" Still the boy struggled, and still the rope's hold wasn't even altered. "Hiro, please stop! Let me explain! Stop yelling!"

But Hiro wasn't listening at this point. He could hardly hear over the roaring of blood in his ears.

The person cursed underneath their breath. They lowered their hand and quickly turned, not even glancing back at Hiro as they rushed out of the room. For a moment Hiro was too shocked to do much of anything. His mind was going everywhere at once— it was like he was having whiplash. Gasping, he looked all around the room for something he could use to get free. But there weren't any scissors or knives. Even if there were, he couldn't have used them properly with the way his hands were at his sides. He could hardly _breathe_ like this, let alone _function_ properly.

"Help! Help me! I don't…" Hiro paused, trying to force himself to take in more air. He couldn't be heard from anywhere if he was shouting this softly, and his hyperventilating didn't help either. He didn't get the chance to try yelling again, though, before the person reentered the room. Again, the silver beads rung out sharply, as if their sole job was to announce any person coming and going out of the bedroom. And again, Hiro shrank backwards. This time the person was carrying something with them, and the mere sight of the thing caused another wash of terror to shoot through the boy.

Tensing, his voice was left to drop back down into a shallow whisper. In contrast to before, his voice was soft— it was more of a direct plead. An implore. A beg. "Please, you can't just…" He could hardly form a coherent sentence. Tears continued to mark down his face, even more welling up as the person crouched back down in front of him. He hurried, his words running into each other in their haste to get out before it's too late. "I won't tell anyone— is that what you want to hear? I won't, I swear! If you let me go, I wouldn't tell a single person what you did! I would never—"

It was too late. Not listening to the boy's words, the person leaned down, ripping off a long strand of duct tape and forcing it down tightly over Hiro's mouth. It silenced him effectively. As breathing was already difficult enough, he was forced to concentrate on doing so without the help of his mouth. All he could do now was try and focus on choking back as much as he could through his nose. Though as the tape made contact with his skin, the boy's eyes screwed shut tightly, a large sense of confusion and defeat settling over him.

But it seemed to be the opposite with the other across from him. They seemed to recover from whatever anger they might have felt upon Hiro's reaction. Now their voice was comforting once more: soft and gentle, though their actions until this point had been anything but. "Don't cry, Hiro, please. Shhh…" Hiro felt a pressure on the side of his face…the person was trying to wipe away one of his tears. Immediately, the boy's eyes snapped open again and he jerked aside, a plaintive, albeit muffled, cry leaking through the barrier of tape.

He turned, looking up at the person fearfully. They seemed taken aback by the rejection. For a while, they just stared at the child, who stared back. Neither of them seemed to know exactly what to do for the briefest moment. Then the person seemed to resolve. Their surprised expression turned stonier, and they drew back from the child, their arm returning to their side. When they spoke again, their voice was not as gentle. "Hiro, I am going to ask that you behave." Hiro went stiff at the odd order, his blood running cold at the tone of voice that the person used. Seeing that this seemed to still the child, the person went on in a similar manner. "I didn't _want_ to put that tape on you, but you just left me no choice. If you continue to act out, then we're going to have more issues between us. You understand that, don't you?"

Hiro didn't reply. He just continued to breathe heavily through his nose.

The person went on after a beat of silence. "What am I saying? Of course you know; from what I hear, you're a very smart kid, isn't that right?" Still Hiro did not move. At the lack of reply, the person's expression hardened. Their eyes narrowed slightly and their voice sharpened a bit. It was clear that they required a response. " _You're a smart kid; aren't you, Hiro?_ "

He hesitated. He considered ignoring the question. But reluctantly, fighting a shiver, he nodded once.

It was hardly a movement in itself, but it was enough to satisfy the person, apparently. They grinned widely. To anyone else, it would have looked like they had won the lottery. "That's right! See? That wasn't too hard, now, was it? And you answered correctly— don't be frightened! You're here _because_ you're so smart." His voice changed somewhat with this. Hiro froze, falling still. He couldn't mistake the tone that leaked into the person's voice. It was the tone that Tadashi used with him whenever he called him a 'Knucklehead.' It was the tone of voice that Aunt Cass used whenever she said goodnight to Hiro on his way up the stairs. It was the same tone of voice that, in the recesses of his memory, a woman had used whenever she would coo softly over him.

It was love. There was no confusing it.

His breathing hitched. He started to struggle again, continuing the efforts despite the amount of pain that was lodged in his leg and spine. Seeing this, the person leaned forward, putting their hands on Hiro's shoulders and forcing him to fall still once more. Hiro's face crumpled, the teenager bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, quickly tasting the metallic tang of blood flood his mouth in response. He sniffed, cringing as he realized that his face was quickly growing sticky— he could not reach up to brush the water away.

No sooner did the thought cross his mind did he feel that pressure again. The person was wiping away his tears, but this time they were taking care in keeping Hiro still. He tried to twist his head, but it made no difference. Sniffing hard, the boy let out a small sob against the barrier of tape. It did not make much farther than that. Hearing it, the person associated the cry with something else entirely. They drew back, looking concerned for the boy's sake. "You're still injured, aren't you?" he asked, seeming alarmed. When Hiro only cried lowly again, they elaborated their question. "Do you want to tell me where it still hurts?"

Hiro made no inclination to reply. The child went so far as to look away, averting his eyes from the other. It was as if he was some frightened kid that believed if you couldn't see the danger, then it certainly couldn't see you. That was, unfortunately, not the case. The person leaned forward, grabbing the end of the duct tape and taking care in peeling it off from his mouth. The action brought a renewed sting to the boy's eyes, but the fact was quickly brushed aside. Instead, he turned and looked at the other person anxiously, yet they somehow looked just as concerned. "Where does it hurt?"

Hiro took in a few gulps of air, able to do so through his mouth once more. It came across as at least a little bit of relief. Really, he would take anything at the moment. He grimaced at first at the prickling of torn skin. But quickly, he regained control of himself, and steadied himself enough to offer some form of a reply. Once again, his voice came out rough and ragged. But at least it came out in the first place. "You have…" He grimaced, swallowing thickly before doubling back to try again. "You can't keep me here!" He could see the person's expression change severely, but he went on in a rush before they could reply or cut him off. "You said— you said you were going to take me to the hospital. You have to take me there." He attempted to put some sort of authority into his voice. He wasn't too sure on how effective it was in reality.

The person seemed to process this for a moment. When they replied, their voice was patient. "Hiro, you—"

 _Go. Make a case. Make him understand. You have to. Talk. Talk! TALK!_ "Listen, you're going to get into so much trouble," Hiro hissed thinly, his eyes wide and imploring. The person snapped their mouth shut, yet they were unable to think of something else to reply with before Hiro was rushing on. _The tape is off. He could put it back any second and you can't do anything about it. But you_ can _do something about this. Talk! Be convincing, you stupid idiot!_ "When they find me here like this, you're gonna get arrested! But if you just let me go, then you'll be completely free, right? I don't know you! It's not like I could tell the police, right?! If you just let me go right now, then it's like nothing ever happened! You know? It'll be fine— it'll all be fine. Trust me!" He tried to offer a laugh at the end, but it came off as too nervous to be believed whatsoever.

It was silent for a while. The person simply stared while Hiro struggled to get his breathing back under control. The simple motion was easier said than done. As the quiet lengthened between them, Hiro's heart began to beat rapidly, a sense of cautious hope wriggling into his chest. Maybe he had convinced him? Made this person see sense? He wasn't sure; all he was certain of was the fact that the longer things remained silent, the more anxious he became— the more his nerves grated.

After a while the person spoke, their voice soft. "Are you going to tell me what hurts?" they requested.

Hiro's mind went into a confused spasm. He blinked rapidly, caught off-guard. "W-What?"

Disappointment clouded their gaze, almost quicker than Hiro could comprehend. They leaned forward, and in one swift motion, reaffirmed the tape's hold over the child's mouth. Unrelenting to the child's muffled cries, the person just shook their head. They were obviously let down by the expression they wore upon looking at the boy. "Hiro, I warned you about your behavior," they reminded sternly. Hiro threw him a look, almost too confused to try and even think of a _mental_ reply. "You can't continue to act out. It just _cannot_ happen." They sounded firm on this. Final.

Hiro did nothing, completely frozen.

The other continued after a moment or two, having regained themselves enough to control their voice once more. They were more tempered now. They put special emphasis on each word, and Hiro was reminded of some high school teacher that always irritated the class because they talked too slow. "Now…you're going to be here for a while." The words were simple enough in themselves, but they completely slapped Hiro across the face. If the person noticed, they didn't show it. "You're going to stay here and be with me. And don't worry— I've got everything taken care of for you."

Hiro's eyes widened considerably at this. His blood ran cold. Despite the fact that the tape was obviously going to staunch his efforts, Hiro began to try and speak again, his incoherent mumbles rising in slow panic. _Taken care of? What was taken care of? What did that_ mean _?_

Once again, though, they disregarded him entirely. "I've gotten the entire house ready for your staying here, and I have no doubt in the world that you'll be very happy with me." _With you!? Who_ are _you!?_ "But of course…" The person's voice dropped slightly, and that same stern kind of look crawled in his gaze. "It all depends on your behavior." _But what did he mean by taken care of!?_ "If you promise to be good and abide by the rules…then you'll have nothing to worry about." Despite Hiro's panicked stare, the person smiled brightly, still at eye level with the child. "But you're a very smart boy, Hiro," he assured. "You'll do just fine."

The older man leaned closer, reaching out and making a move as if to fix the boy's hair. Immediately, Hiro hissed, ducking his head and flinching deeply away from the simple motion. His eyes screwed shut tightly, and his jaw locked back in a mixture of terror and anger. The person picked up Hiro's hint this time, seeming to finally grasp at least some of the boy's shocked contempt. After all, what else was there to feel in response to what was happening?

Nothing happened at first. Hiro kept his eyes shut, knowing for a fact that he did not want to open them again. But that wasn't really an option— regardless of how much he wanted to keep hidden, the niggling sense of curiosity was too much to bear. He turned his head slightly and cracked open one eye, a cringe already crawling up to overtake his features. But before he could even turn around all the way, he found himself regretting the motion.

A hefty force collided against the side of the boy's head. The person – whoever it was – had lashed out in a sudden attack, striking the young child with enough strength to completely scatter his brain. He was knocked aside as much as the ropes would allow, his chin touching the binding across his chest as he sagged forward. His head pulsated and throbbed, spinning away from him like a top. Against the duct tape, the young boy let out a heavy sob, cringing away from the newly-developed source of pain. He breathed heavily through his nose, trying to push down his rapidly-growing nerves before they could consume him entirely. He had to focus, he had to focus…

 _Do something! You've got to do something! Quick! Help yourself!_

But he couldn't. He was tied back, and his hands were rendered useless. His back was screaming in agony, as was his leg, and now his head. Opening his eyes gradually, he could hardly make sense of anything through the dots that were dancing in front of his vision. It felt like needles were being inserted into his skull in a slow, agonizing manner. Along with the growing sense of pain, though, there was also anger and fear as well. Anger derived from the ropes that held him back. Fear that he was powerless to stop anything that was happening or going to happen from this point on. He felt like screaming, like screeching and sprinting and thrashing. But he couldn't do _any_ of those things.

 _Why is this happening? Why is this happening? Why is this happening?_

"Hiro, you have to _behave_ ," the person reiterated, their tone scathing. The child blinked fast, trying desperately to clear the newfound fog from his head. A few moments passed in complete silence before: "Hiro, look at me."

Hiro did not move. He just wheezed unevenly in and out.

The person raised their voice into a sharp shout. "Hiro, I said _look at me_!"

Hiro refused to acknowledge him again, keeping his head lowered and ducked away. It's what this creep deserved, after all. The young boy didn't want to give him any kind of satisfaction that would come from his obedience. He knew in the back of his mind that he was probably being stupid. He should be taking care in playing things safe. In keeping _himself_ safe. Because at the moment, it was growing apparent that he was not.

The person's arm shot forward as the man grabbed his chin, using much more force than was really needed. Hiro yelped into the tape around his mouth, finding his head forcibly yanked back front. " _Hiro!"_ The boy's stomach went into a knot at the yell, and this time he opened his eyes in a snap, not even pausing to consider being stubborn. The person was angry now— the emotion was alive in every sharp line of their face. Their eyes, narrowed into furious slits, bored straight through Hiro.

The person spoke through clenched teeth. "Listen to me." The words were all but spat out at him, and Hiro fought not to cringe away. "You are going to stay here. You are going to stay here with me and that's final, do you understand?" Hiro didn't respond immediately, and the person snapped: "When I ask you something, you are going to answer. Now let me try again: _do you understand_?"

Hiro inhaled sharply, holding back yet another whimper of fear. He managed the smallest of nods, the motion coming across as a slight jerk. His face was still written over in panic, but thankfully it seemed to be enough for the other. Though they did not ease whatsoever in their anger, they didn't get even more so. "Good." They were looking hard at Hiro, as if studying every single inch of the boy. Hiro wanted nothing more than to look away, but the hold on his chin remained where it was, keeping him in spot. "Then I won't expect any more problems from you. Does that make sense?"

He closed his eyes briefly. But the grip on his chin started to get even harder, and he quickly snapped them back open. By now, the realization and full gravity of his situation was dawning over him. Tears stung in his eyes, and he concentrated on not blinking, for fear that the water would overflow down his face again. Seeing the correction that the boy made, the other person smiled widely, looking much more pleased. "There's a good lad," he remarked, his voice gentle again. They could go from barbed like a thorn to as soft as a pillow in .2 seconds flat. "It just takes practice, don't worry. And we're going to have quite a long time to practice things."

Hiro choked back a soft cry.

The person looked over the young boy from head to toe. His eyes seemed oddly distant for some reason, though Hiro wasn't much in the mood to try and find out the reason as to why. He was mostly just concentrating to keeping himself together. He was trying to organize the puzzle pieces as best he could. Why _him_? Why was _he_ the one to be picked off the streets? What did this person want from him? Where was he? Who was this person in the first place? How did he find out about him? What was Hiro supposed to do from this point on!?

But amid all of the puzzle pieces, there was one that was bigger than the rest. One that stood out and one that forced his attention to be drawn into place. _What did this person mean by 'things were taken care of?'_ Where was Tadashi? Where was Aunt Cass? How long had he been unconscious— why weren't they out looking for him? Shouldn't he be found by now? Unless…

Unless…

Hiro's eyes stung even more, the boy watching as colors and shapes began to bleed and leak together. He began to mumble again through the tape, but his words came out mushed and incoherent. He leaned forward but remembered the ropes, grimacing at the fact that he could do nothing. All he could do was stare at the man and hope that he felt gracious enough to take it off of his mouth. At first he thought that it wouldn't be effective enough— the person seemed slightly doubtful at the boy's sudden wish to speak again. But he seemed to underestimate the lengths that this person was willing to go in order to get a verbal agreement. They peeled off the tape a second time, though this time they did not take it all the way off. Rather, it hung awkwardly off of one side.

"What happened to them?" Hiro spoke before the other could, his voice a low rasp.

The person didn't seem to make the connection as to what he was referring to. Though their grin wavered slightly as they asked: "Who?"

Hiro's lower lip trembled, though he tried to make up for it by narrowing his eyes into a glare. Yet all the glares in the world couldn't make up for the fragility of his voice when it came out. "My family," he whimpered. More water gushed into his eyes, however much he tried to stop it. "My family— what did you do to my family? Aunt Cass? Ta— Tadashi?" He swallowed back a lump in his throat and tried again. "Where are they?"

The person blinked rapidly. The only sound that punctured the silence was from Hiro's uneven wheezes. They looked down, pursing their lips in a resigned manner. Finally they looked back up and nodded slowly. "I can see that you're not ready yet," they murmured softly, a sense of reproach hidden in their voice. Hiro perked, his face falling. But the person just went on. "Maybe you just need some time to think about it."

Hiro's hands curled tightly. "Wha—?"

They leaned back and put the tape into place again. And before Hiro could even try to start fighting back, they yanked off yet another strand of adhesive to make the gag two layers instead of one. It would not only muffle his sounds easier, but it would make sure that the first layer – which had been pulled twice now – did not fall off. "When I come back, I expect you to be much more behaved. Do you understand?" Hiro screwed his eyes shut, groaning lowly in the back of his throat. He ducked his head into a flinch and choked on the pain that tingled in his lower back as a response.

The person leaned over and hooked their finger underneath Hiro's chin, nudging it back up and keeping it there. "Open your eyes." Stifling a hiss, Hiro did as he was told, a few tears finally managing to leak over his eyes and down his cheeks. The person smiled at him, their expression soft in comparison to what it had been before. Again, they brushed away the excess water on Hiro's cheeks. Hiro's stomach curled with the motion, and he had to hold back a vehement gag. "Don't worry, Hiro. The only family that you'll need from now on is me. And I'll always be right here."

Hiro jerked away. Another sob leaked through the barrier of adhesive.

The person – who _were_ they? – withdrew from Hiro, the boy's heart picking up as he watched him with a sense of alarm. Wait…he was leaving? Was he leaving him? Where was he going to go? How long was he going to be gone? When was he going to come back!? Was he going to leave him like this!? Seeing the child's anxiety, the person only shook their head in derision. "You brought this upon yourself, Hiro. Some time alone will help you realize where you stand now. We cannot be a family until you decide to behave like she would."

Hiro blinked at this. He stiffened and looked up at the person in renewed confusion. _…She?_

But they were not minding him in the slightest. They turned on their heel and left, going out the door and leaving behind them the sound of those clattering silver beads. Hiro watched them go with eyes as big as an owl's, a sense of dread prickling underneath his skin as he listened to the footsteps fade away around the corner. He looked down at the ropes holding him back, at his hands that were restrained and his leg that was bent awkwardly to the side. His breathing was still harsh, and, now that the person was gone, Hiro didn't worry about holding back his tears anymore.

Falling into hyperventilation once more, he jerked once, but quickly regretted it, yelping at a stab centered in his lower back. Feeling at a loss of anything else to do, the boy screamed as loud as he could. But with the tape over his mouth, it was clear that he wouldn't be heard by anyone who could help him. And, realizing that the person might come back and shut him up, Hiro gave up, hanging his head with a frustrated huff. He flinched, sniffing wetly. He tried to think of something comforting. Anything that would stop his heart from hammering or his body from trembling.

But all that permeated his mind was what had happened to Aunt Cass and Tadashi.

Did he…? Had that person…?

No— of course not. Maybe…maybe that guy was just trying to scare him. It was all talk; he was just trying to plant some kind of seed in his head for cultivation. Yeah— yeah, that had to be it. It couldn't possibly be anything else. Tadashi and Aunt Cass were fine; that guy couldn't have done anything to them.

Right?

…Right?

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"…but we are going to do the best we can to find your nephew and bring him home. Once we get those posters over the city, more people will be aware of your situation and be able to help. We have cases like these all the time, Miss Hamada; you shouldn't worry. Typically we find the missing child within a week— two at the most. As long as every detail you've given me is right, then we should be able to go off of that." The police officer seemed calm and in control. Almost to the point where it seemed like he was just going through the motions.

Tadashi wondered how truthful the officer was being in his claims. Or whether or not he was just trying to calm Aunt Cass down. She had been a wreck all day. From the moment she had sprung for the phone, to now, she was teary-eyed and frantic. She shifted her weight from foot to foot constantly, unable to keep still. She had been on and off the phone all day, calling friends and even just people who came to the café, asking if they had seen Hiro or knew where he was. She had gotten nothing yet. She had worked like this all day— it was going on seven at night now.

Currently she was leaning against the kitchen counter, her head in her hands as she stared unseeingly at the floor. She could have been listening to the officer speak, but really, nobody could be sure. Tadashi was near the stairs, his expression solemn and sorrowful. When Aunt Cass didn't move or react in the slightest of ways to the man standing beside her, the young man cleared his throat, pushing off of the banister and walking a few paces forward. "Thank you," he offered, hoping that maybe the officer could take his word instead of his aunt's. Bleakly, Tadashi realized that he would have no idea— he had never been in this kind of situation before. "We appreciate all the work you've been putting in."

The officer looked over at him and offered a smile, though the expression did not reach his eyes. _Is that because you're too deep in thought, or just not paying attention?_ Tadashi wondered. "No trouble at all, kid," the officer reassured, turning back to Aunt Cass quickly. "But before I go back to the station, I have to have you sign a few more papers, ma'am. It won't take more than ten minutes at the most…"

Aunt Cass looked up, her eyes red and raw from crying. For a heartbeat she just stared at the papers that the officer held, as if she had never experienced something as trivial as paper before in her life. Against himself, and against better judgement in general, Tadashi's eyes narrowed slightly. He took a few more paces forward, clearing his throat. "Could you maybe come back sometime tomorrow? I think that—"

"Kid, I know it's hard, and believe me, if I could come back tomorrow I would," the officer interrupted. Tadashi blinked rapidly, slightly offended as he took a step backwards. "But if you want your little brother to be found as soon as possible, you've gotta let me do my job. It's just a few signatures, and a few more details here and there. Then I'll be straight out of your hair, I promise." He turned to look back at Aunt Cass, extending the papers a little slowly. "Is that alright with you, ma'am?"

Seeing her nephew's indignant look, Aunt Cass offered him a weak smile. "It's fine, sweetie," she assured him. Her voice sounded hollow. "I'll just do this last thing. Why don't you go upstairs? You don't have to hang around here all night; you've got that test on Monday. Why don't you go study for that?"

Tadashi opened his mouth to object. But, seeing Aunt Cass take the papers and turn for the counter, he figured there wouldn't be much of a point to the effort. He lingered for a while longer, waiting to make sure there wasn't anything else he could do. But eventually he obeyed and went upstairs, leaving them to it. His head was pounding; nearly all day, a headache had fostered itself neatly behind his eyes. From the moment he had realized that it was past midnight and Hiro was not home yet, Tadashi's heart had been pounding a mile a minute, and it still refused to stop.

Where _was_ he? Aunt Cass had called nearly everyone they knew during the course of the day, and they had still come up with absolutely nothing. Tadashi had gone back out to look through some of the city again, and he was just as lost as he was before. He had gone back to be with Aunt Cass, for fear of leaving her alone too long, but he had gotten a chunk done. Not to mention he had spent all of last night looking. Still nothing. San Fransokyo was a huge place, that much was obvious. But a little kid like Hiro just wandering around? Shouldn't someone notice something?

He told himself to relax. Maybe the officer was right— after they spread those posters and give out alerts to the fact that there was a missing child, then Hiro would turn up eventually. He was probably just out somewhere doing something stupid and losing track of time. Heaven knew that if anybody in San Fransokyo would do that, it would be Hiro Hamada. The officer had said typically a week was how long a kid could stay classified as missing. If that was true…

Reaching his room, Tadashi stopped short, his face falling at the sight of his brother's empty bed. Right about now, he should be curled up against his pillow reading some superhero comic. Now it was just empty— he was nowhere to be found. Not typing on his computer or fiddling with any new inventions or robots. Sorrow pierced the older brother's heart, and he sighed deeply, reaching up and rubbing at his forehead.

It was a mess.

He tried to shake himself out of it. He would go out tomorrow and try to find Hiro again then. Maybe he had just missed someplace. Or maybe he could start spreading the news himself. He could visit houses or make another set of fliers. He didn't care _what_ he had to do; as long as it would the job, he wouldn't hesitate. Though really, for Hiro's sake, he hoped that there was a _very_ good reason that he hadn't come home yet. It was nearing 24 hours with him being absent now. Aunt Cass was going crazy and Tadashi was struggling to keep himself off the verge of being the same. If it was some stupid bot thing that was keeping him away, Tadashi would probably explode on the spot.

Though the thought, once it initially passed, made him grimace instead. His expression weighing heavier now, he walked over to his brother's bed and sat down gingerly. He hunched over and held his head in his hands. If Hiro wasn't out doing something stupid…then what _was_ keeping him away? Had something happened to him? The city was a dangerous place; especially at night. What if he was hurt or somewhere he shouldn't be? That was a possibility as well.

That was why Aunt Cass was so anxious. It was why she had spent the entire day wiping at her eyes when she thought Tadashi hadn't been looking. It was why Tadashi was so strung-out, and why his heart wouldn't stop racing. Hiro was a cocky kid. You leave him alone for thirty minutes, and you're bound to have him get in at least _some_ form of trouble. What if he was in trouble?

Tadashi blinked, looking up from the ground to Hiro's desk. Against himself, a certain kind of hope glowed in the back of his eyes. Maybe Hiro wasn't in any danger at all. Maybe instead, he got some idea in his head and took off somewhere. That money that he always took special care in putting away— was he saving up for something? Or some _where_? Maybe the story was different. It still wasn't good, but maybe the worrying could ease just a little bit. After all, if the money was gone, then he could get food and water somewhere. It would show that he had a _plan_ of some sort. They would still be worried, and they would still find him. But they could have an easier mental picture in their mind maybe.

Tadashi got up from the bed and rushed to the desk, trying the drawers until he found the right one. Hiro didn't have a reputation of thinking things through. Maybe he just decided that he wanted a change of pace for a while. Tadashi could have been at fault there— his last conversation with his little brother hadn't been the best. If Hiro thought the older brother was angry with him, Tadashi wouldn't put it past him to run away. Stupid, yes. But not as fear-inspiring. If only by a slight degree.

He opened the drawer and looked inside, already trying to think of how he could explain this to Aunt Cass in a way that would convey the brighter prospect of this suspicion.

But before he could, he froze. His face fell.

The drawer was crammed with money.

Not a single bill had been taken out.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: I hope you liked this chapter! I'm sorry to say that typically updates aren't this frequent. I have two other stories I'm working on, and with school, my schedule can get rather backed up. Saying that, I apologize for any typos. Usually I have time to go back and edit them before I post them, but with school, it's kind of difficult. Hopefully they aren't too big of a deal.

I would like to get more feedback for this chapter! I'm actually on the fence about it quality-wise, I'm not sure it's the best that it could be. So I'd be really interested to see what you have to say about it- maybe there are a few things I could go back and fix. The next few upcoming updates will explain things some more and really set up the story, and, like I said before, I've got a lot planned for this! So I would love to hear your thoughts on what's up so far— good and bad! And if you have any questions I would be thrilled to answer them, though by this point, you're kind of supposed to have a few lol

Anyway thank you for reading! I hope to hear from you all soon! :)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: In case those of you reading haven't seen my profile yet, I am starting to delay updates a bit more. Considering the fact that I have three stories going on at once alongside high school, I am going to start focusing on the ones that get more attention. That being said, I will wait for about ten reviews per chapter before updating.

This does not mean that I won't update a story until I get ten reviews; it just means that the update might come later. I have no plans of abandoning this story whatsoever— I just ask that if I put in as much work as if to get out a quick update, that I do get feedback in return for the work that I put out. I'm sorry if this may come as an inconvenience, but as an author of three stories at the moment, this is the best solution.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Putting things in a very delicate manner, Hiro wasn't an average, run-of-the-mill 'smart kid.' That wasn't, of course, to say that he wasn't smart; rather, it was the complete opposite. He was _wildly_ advanced; when he was five years old he had helped Aunt Cass repair their stove, and by the time he was thirteen he had graduated high school. Throughout his life he had been involved in every Honor Society that existed in his school, and he hadn't ever gotten below a 95% on a test. And it wasn't that he was good at studying or really even _trying_ either; he never had the need to. It just came naturally to him. The good grades, the intelligence, the general knowledge…he didn't ever _try_ for any of it _._

It was always just…there.

So he wasn't used to anything like this. Even when he was in Advanced Placement Engineering as an eight-year-old, he knew every little detail there was to know about a subject. Nothing was left in the dark when it came to him. This…whatever kind of situation _this_ was…it was a polar body. He had no idea what to do. If everything before this point in his life was a clear-cut math equation on a whiteboard, now he was left staring at something that resembled nothing more than crude marker scribbles. It was a mishmash of things that did not connect, and no matter how much he tried to find sense, everything he landed on seemed too far-fetched or outlandish to be even plausible.

He only really knew a handful of things— most of which were not that helpful at all to him. He knew for certain that he was someplace he did not know, with a person that was just as familiar to him. He was injured and drugged and now he could not move or speak. He couldn't even make a noise louder than a mumble through the duct tape still clamped over his mouth. He had tried wriggling his face awkwardly, stretching his jaw in the attempt to inch the tape off of his skin. But it was no use.

He didn't know how long he was left alone. Despite everything around him pointing to the evidence that he was inside of someone's bedroom, there wasn't a single clock to look at. There was a window adjacent to him with its curtains pulled tight. Hiro could not see outside to be sure, but as more time passed, he grew more and more certain that the light seeping through the drapes was getting dimmer and dimmer. He had no idea what time it had been when he was left alone; frankly, he had no idea how long he had been unconscious from the pills he had taken in the first place.

But his back was stiff and screeching with tension, and the pain centered in his leg was mounting steadily the longer he sat in that same position. It had to be hours. It just had to be. As the desolate thought crossed his mind, the boy whimpered in the back of his throat, his eyes closing in a deep wince. Thanks to the blow that had been delivered to him by his captor, a splitting headache had emerged to wrap tightly around his temples like a vice. He hurt all over; he just wanted to be able to lay down, out of this stiff and uncomfortable position. He wanted to curl up and go to sleep and pretend like none of this had ever happened in the first place.

But he couldn't do that. He couldn't even move.

It steadily grew darker. Black shadows gathered and pooled together, preparing the room to be swallowed by the dimness entirely. As night settled, Hiro was still right where he had been left, rope tied too tight around his chest in a way that pinned his arms useless to his sides. Breathing was still difficult with the added pressure, and every so often his rhythm would hitch as an added jolt of pain raced up his leg. More than once, he considered the prospect of sleeping. Every fiber of him was exhausted, and in the back of his mind he knew that he would hurt less if he just fell unconscious. But he couldn't let himself. The fear and panic of what else could still happen pulsed through his system; it was enough to prevent him from losing his senses.

Instead, Hiro stared almost blankly down at the ground. He had stopped trying to call for help, and he had given up on straining against the ropes. Neither had been effective in the slightest. His expression was heavy as he hung his head. Every so often, despite himself, the child's vision would blur over— either out of sorrow, or regret, or extreme frustration. It was hard to discern exactly which one was the most prominent. Regardless of their source, once the tears spilled over, they left sticky tracks on his cheeks that he could not reach up and rub away, thanks to the bindings across his chest. For the hours that he sat, his face was hot and burned in an unfixable way, as if branded permanently.

The shadows grew and grew until they consumed everything around him. Hiro was left in complete darkness. Though his head still pulsated and throbbed from the previous blow, it did not prevent the constant worrying to flitter through his mind. _What did he mean when he said 'she?' Where did that person go? Had he done something to Aunt Cass? Or Tadashi?_ He shifted the tiniest bit, trying to alleviate pressure off of a particularly sensitive spot on his back. But he quickly found that he regretted the movement; even the smallest twitch caused severe pain to lance through him. He tried to breathe himself through the agony caused by his jerk; any more excess tears, and his face would only get hotter and stickier.

He remembered what Tadashi used to tell him when they were younger. Hiro used to have the awful habit of immediately breaking down into a temper tantrum the moment that things did not go his way— screaming, crying…the whole nine yards. Tadashi would always chastise him in the same way when such a fit came along, crossing his arms over his chest and fixing the younger with a patient look as he asked: "Hiro, will crying make anything better?" Defeated by logic, Hiro would always shake his head no. In response, Tadashi would nod his head yes in an affirmative manner. "That's right," he had always said. "So there's no reason to do it."

There was no use in crying. He didn't need to do it. He _shouldn't_. In the back of his mind, he was still struggling to tell himself that something wasn't right. That this was all some sort of joke or a misunderstanding. He had heard things like this happening— what kid hadn't? In preschool, one of the very first things you were told was that you should never even acknowledge strangers; a seed of innate distrust was planted in your mind that only grew along with you, as you saw pictures of missing people or news stories about a recent local death. The knowledge of it all in itself wasn't what confused him, it was the fact that it was happening to _him_. Yes, you grew up knowing that kidnapping or abductions are something that exists. But they never happen to you. Only to other people. Never to you.

He kept trying to tell himself that it was all some sort of glitch. That he wasn't the one who was supposed to be here, and that whoever had run him over would come in any minute to tell him: "Whoops, wrong one! I must have made a mistake! Here, let me get you right on out of here, terribly sorry about that." Against any other logic he might have, and against the part of him that was warning against any risen hopes, Hiro wished desperately that such a thing would occur, and the boy kept his panicked gaze trained on the door across from him for long periods of time. But, unsurprisingly, as the room got darker, nobody came.

Gradually, it got to be so dark, that Hiro could not even see the door anymore.

Nobody came then, either.

In the dark, the house was completely silent. And not the silence that brought a sense of peace, either. That kind of quiet was relaxing and comforting— it was the kind of silence that hung over a winter night, or the kind that rested in between two friends who were at ease to just sit next to one another and think. The silence that plagued the house was choking and suffocating. It pressed down on Hiro's shoulders and grated on his already-thin nerves. Though he had managed to calm himself down enough after a while in order to keep from falling into a pattern of hyperventilation, he could feel the fact that he was bordering on the edge of such an episode.

All night, he was waiting. Just waiting. It was all he could do at the moment. Tied back against what he was supposing was either some kind of support beam of the house, the most he could move was his head back and forth. He could lean forwards, or to the side, but in doing so, his back would screech out in sharp protest, still agonized from the blow of the car. Though Hiro was getting better at ignoring it, the pain was still prominent and only grew more so with excessive movement. After he had gone some time straining against the bonds, he had quickly realized that the effort was pointless. He was only hurting himself; those ropes weren't going anywhere. So he had given up and just tried to keep still, taking to just waiting for the pain in both his lower back and his leg to ebb away.

That had probably been hours ago. The sensation still wasn't much better.

Night fell over the house, and still there was no more contact made between him and whoever lived here. Hiro couldn't really tell whether or not that was a good thing. His sense of panic and fear told him that it wasn't— even though this person was more than likely to have a number of things wrong with them, at least with them here, Hiro had the chance of maybe finding out why all of this was happening. Right now, he had ten thousand questions, and absolutely no answers. Even if he was in danger with the person around him, wasn't it worth it to be able to find out _why_ this was happening?

The pain in his head…in his back, and in his leg told him otherwise. This person was dangerous, right? Too dangerous to try and look for excess contact with. Whoever this person was, he had run Hiro over in his car, gave him some kind of weird drug, and then hit him over the head, all without a single bat of the eye or hesitation. He hadn't even seemed that guilty about doing it afterwards, either, despite whatever other weird things he might have said or claimed. No, he didn't need to be wishing for him to come back. The longer he stayed away, the better off Hiro would be.

Whether or not his injuries spoke louder than his need for answers, Hiro wasn't sure. All that the boy was sure of was the fact that every time there was the smallest of noises around the house, he would jump. There weren't a lot of them to experience, but when they happened, it might as well have been an atomic bomb. Once it had just started to really get dark, there had been what sounded like the scraping of pans in the distance— probably coming from the kitchen. As soon as the small squeaks had reached Hiro's ears from wherever they had echoed from, he found that he immediately cringed, wincing away like it was some kind of firework explosion. When footsteps could be heard as well, the boy froze and locked up— a deer in headlights.

He kept waiting for those sounds to gradually get closer and closer. He could picture whoever it was slowly slinking back towards the room, towards him, and his stomach knotted and twisted in on itself. He thought for sure that if he didn't have this tape over his mouth, he would have gotten sick by this point. Sometimes, as time stretched on, he wondered whether or not the tape would even be enough to curb the sensation away. But he always managed to gather himself back up, ducking his head down and forcing himself to relax against his will. It was a shaky process, and one that he wasn't even all that good at. But it was enough to suffice, for now. At least, it kept him from breaking apart into a screaming mess, which would only bring the person back into the room.

He waited and waited. Every so often, there would be the sound of car rolling by the house, its presence being signaled by a muted glow that managed to seep through the drapes, as well as the soft swelling sound of a motor. Not a lot came by, just a small few. But every time that one did pass, Hiro inevitably perked up, despite the pain that lanced down his lower back at the movement. He would always turn his head, as if watching the dull glow would make some kind of a difference. It always passed by soon after, if not right at, the moment when Hiro managed to train his gaze up and onto it.

He didn't know if he was on the first or second floor of the house. He didn't even know if this place had a second floor. He didn't really care about such trivial facts at the moment. What he did care about, and what he did want to know, was who those people were that were driving the cars. Where were they going, and why were they in such a rush? On the outside of this house, did it look like nothing was wrong at all? Did everything look completely normal? Hiro had a hard time believing that it did— certainly something had to be amiss!? Could his being here be that insignificant?

Why didn't any of the people passing by do a double-take? Could nobody be able to look at the house, purse their lips, and declare: "Something just doesn't seem right there today. Something is different…" Every car that passed, the same thought ran through Hiro's head like a mantra that restarted itself. Why didn't anyone see that something was wrong? And if they couldn't see anything wrong now…how could they _ever_? With every car that streaked by, and with every flash of yellow light, Hiro grew more and more disheartened— more frustrated, and more hopeless.

Why couldn't anyone see that he was here?

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

At some point in the night, he must have fallen asleep. Not for very long, surely; when he opened his eyes, the morning light that made it through the curtains was weak and grayish. He must have caught a few hours at the most, which was impressive given the situation that he was in. He hadn't even noticed the fact that he had fallen unconscious— waking up was a complete surprise to him.

Yet not as much as the surprise of his injuries were. Waking up, at first he could feel absolutely nothing. Too groggy and disoriented to think of anything for the first few seconds, Hiro found himself flinching away sharply as his senses gradually returned. After sitting in such a way for such a long amount of time, Hiro's whole body had gone stiff, his joints locking together as if they were glued. This only made the pain in his back and his leg even more unbearable, and the teenager couldn't hold back a small whimper as he tried to shift into a position that would be more comfortable for him.

His head had not gotten any better, either. The pain derived from the blow to his head had only tripled in the night, it seemed. Before now, the main focus of his pain had been seated directly behind his eyes; now the pain spread to clench tightly around the entirety his skull. He grimaced, sucking in a sharp breath he ducked his head, his eyes closing. The light seemed much too bright when he looked at it, even though the sun was probably just barely poking up over the horizon. He kept his eyes closed, wondering if they just needed a little bit of time to warm up to the glow before he could open them again. Yes— yes, that had to be it. He just needed some time.

'Some time' turned out to be slightly longer than he anticipated. Every time that he tried to open his eyes, he would be forced to cringe away. His head pounded and throbbed, the sensation causing his stomach to churn and flip. He felt sick and nauseated, and frustration welled up inside of him as he wished – not for the first time – that he could just lay down. He felt like he was made out of wood, and it was getting to the point where he just wished he could scream at the top of his lungs, just to get some of the tension out of his muscles. But, again, he forced himself to bottle the noise in.

The glow was getting stronger. By the time he finally got his eyes to stay open, it was a brighter orange. Again, he did not have the resource of a clock to aide him in discerning the exact time. Or— something more helpful in this case would probably be the time _lapse_. It was not as big a success as he would have preferred it to be; his eyes only managed to stay cracked open in a squint. Any more progress would be made over time, not all at once. Already, his head was splitting in agony just with this. He was not going to push himself out of stubbornness. Not right now, anyway.

Soon after he manage to open his eyes and keep them opened, the boy went rigid. Well— _more_ rigid, would probably be the more adequate description. At first he thought it was his imagination, but sure enough, the boy became aware of a set of footsteps echoing through the house. The person was awake. All night, at least half of Hiro had been craving this exact thing— part of him _wanted_ whoever this was to get inside the room and take the tape off of his mouth, just so he could demand answers. Now that Hiro realized that, this time, the footsteps _were_ getting louder… _were_ heading this way…that part of him immediately died on the spot. What was left to replace it, was panic and fright.

They were heading for the room again, and Hiro subconsciously began to pull and fold back into himself. When he was little, Tadashi would always coach him on how to deal with the mean kids that used to haunt him at school. "Get big," his big brother would always cheer. "If you get big enough, and if you make yourself look tough enough, that bully won't want to have any piece of you. You should try it— you'll scare them off before they'll even know what hit them!" But this wasn't a bully on the playground. This was something…something much scarier, something much more dangerous. Hiro had always prided himself on his confidence and…well, cockiness. But he couldn't even bring himself to get bigger now. All he could make himself be was smaller. As if he was trying to make himself invisible, so that when his captor came into the room, he would look over him entirely.

What he suddenly wouldn't give to be invisible.

He listened to the footsteps get closer and closer, his sense of dread growing with their volume. His throat swelled shut in anxiety, and at his sides, his hands began to clench and unclench in a routine manner. He wondered what he should do. Should he pretend to be asleep? Should he look away? Or should he give this person his undivided attention!? Which would keep him the safest!? Was there even an option that would keep him from getting hurt!?

He didn't have the time to entertain such a prospect. His thoughts were going every which way— he didn't even get the opportunity to pin down a single one before the silver beads hanging over the entryway rattled, signaling someone's arrival. Hiro found himself shrinking back as his captor walked over the threshold. His heart stopped and leapt up into his throat, yet the boy tried to maintain as composed as he could on the outside. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, struggling to keep his breathing composed and controlled. He couldn't let go of its rhythm, especially now.

The person seemed…happy…at the sight of Hiro right where he had left him. The smallest hint of a smile touched over his face, and Hiro fought the urge to look away. They were wearing a button-down shirt, with light pants that looked like they had been ironed recently. Wildly, Hiro tried to think of what day it was. He had left on a Friday night to go bot fighting. It had been morning when he had first woken up…right? And then it was morning again right now. Was that right? Was it _Sunday_ now!? That couldn't be right!

"Good morning, Hiro," the person said, jerking Hiro out of his thoughts abruptly. The boy did not reply— he couldn't with the tape over his mouth; though he was more than sure that even if the gag wasn't there, he would stay silent. The person's eyes were soft as they looked down at the boy, who managed to keep up a cool façade on the outside. On the inside, things were an entirely different story. He was lucky that the person didn't see right through him.

But they just continued to look pleasant— ecstatic, even. Not to mention completely normal; he looked like he was just on his way out to church or to go to the curb and fetch the morning paper. He didn't look like someone who had captured a fourteen-year-old boy and had left him tied up and gagged for such a long amount of time. That was probably one of the most disturbing things about this.

So far.

The person grinned softly down at Hiro, stopping a few feet away from the boy. He tilted his head to the side, looking genuinely concerned for a moment. "Did you sleep well?" Hiro only blinked, still drawn defensively into himself. He had no idea what the person wanted him to do. He couldn't talk at all; what else was he supposed to do but just stare at them? The person took a deep breath, walking forward a few paces more before kneeling down to be at eye-level with the boy. It took a conscious amount of self-control for Hiro to keep looking forward and not shrink away to the side.

The person raised their eyebrows in an imploring fashion. Their voice was a touch sterner when they spoke next, though it was still oddly gentle. "Alright, we have to cooperate with one another, now, don't we?" Hiro didn't react at first, not sure whether or not this warranted an actual response. But the person apparently demanded one as they repeated: "Don't we have to cooperate together, Hiro?" He hesitated again, eventually succumbing enough to give a nod. It was small— more of a jerk than anything else. But it seemed to be enough for the person across from him. They brightened, looking relieved as they smiled. "That's right," he said, matter-of-factly. "Then let's make a deal. I think you're a smart enough kid to make a deal, hmm?"

Again, Hiro gave a frightened nod.

The person seemed happier and happier the more that Hiro complied enough to answer his questions. Their smile grew to stretch further across his face, though Hiro tried his best to ignore the fact. "Alright, then; I'm going to take the tape off of your mouth, and I'm going to trust you to stay quiet. No yelling or screaming." Hiro didn't react in the slightest. "Do you think you can stay quiet?" Hiro wasn't actually that sure. He felt like he was going to scream already, and that was when the tape was still over his mouth. "Hiro? I think you can stay quiet, don't you?"

A few seconds slipped by. Hiro nodded again.

They lit up like a Christmas tree. "See?" They leaned over and grabbed the end of the duct tape, peeling away the gag quickly, Hiro flinching away from the pain as his eyes filled up with water. The entire lower half of his face was stinging like it was on fire, and he could only imagine how pink and irritated it probably was by this point. It felt sticky, and he wanted nothing more than to reach up and rub away the residue, but he was still tied back. Instead he just moved his jaw around awkwardly to try and fix the sensation as best he could, one eye closed in a wince. When he immediately did not start screeching and crying, the person seemed overjoyed. "There you go!" He leaned over towards Hiro, and the boy immediately flinched away. But all they did was reach up and ruffle his hair affectionately. "I told you that you were a smart kid. Look at you!"

It was like he was cheering a kid on for their first few steps. Hiro locked his jaw backwards, fighting off a wave of disgust and fury at the tone the person had adopted. Some part of himself urged him to scream anyway— even if he was slapped or knocked aside, wouldn't someone hear him? If he could make just one person hear him, he would have a better chance in getting out of here. But the other side of him won over; fear kept him silent, not compliance.

The person was talking again, and Hiro turned to look at them from the corner of his eye. "I'm sorry for keeping you like this. I know it can't be very comfortable, but…" The paused, looking at Hiro carefully. "This is the way it has to be at first— just until I'm sure that you understand everything." 'Everything' was a rather broad label to put on something. Whatever it encompassed, Hiro hadn't the slightest idea. All he knew was that it felt like tiny little needles were poking into every inch of his joints and muscles. He was exhausted and injured and he needed to go to the bathroom. He felt like a kid in the back of a car on a road trip, rattling off complaints like it was their job. Except he was rendered mute.

"Did you sleep well, Hiro?" the person asked again. Hiro bit down on his lower lip, looking torn on whether or not he should speak. His captor tilted their head to the side, offering him an encouraging grin. "Go on, Hiro. You can talk. We wouldn't be much of a family if we didn't have conversations together, would we? And ultimately, that _is_ the goal."

Hiro fought off a shiver. He was reluctant to break his silence, yet he knew that if he didn't make a move to speak, things would just get worse for him. The thought of becoming friendly with this person enough to hold civil conversation was appalling to Hiro at this point, but he didn't have much of a choice, it looked like. He coughed to try and clear his throat, but when he spoke, his voice was still brittle and dry. His voice rasped against his throat making it seem smaller than it actually was. "No," he mumbled, his eyes flickering down to the ground. "No…I didn't."

The person seemed disheartened with this, as if they actually did care for his comfort. "I'm sorry, Hiro," they murmured. "Is there anything I could do?"

Hiro flushed, his heart freezing in his chest at the question. His throat swelled even more, and he had to cough again to try and clear it. Was this his opportunity? Could he twist this in his favor? Whoever this was, they were clearly a little bit more than off their rocker. And that was putting things very lightly right now. Could Hiro manipulate him enough to let him have a better chance of getting to leave? He kept his eyes down for a moment, but once the thought crossed his mind, he forced himself to look up at the person across from him.

His voice was still quiet— he was almost too frightened to speak at a normal volume. "You…you could untie me," he said in nothing more than a whisper. He tried to watch for a shift in the person's expression. But he couldn't pick up on anything. The person was either really good at disguising what they were feeling, or they just didn't care about the request and found it unimportant. Frankly, Hiro was hoping that it was the latter. When the person did not react at first, Hiro looked down at himself, wincing as the slight movement caused his stiff body pain. "It hurts to sit like this. If I could lay down, I would probably feel much better…"

He waited, hope fluttering like a caged bird in his chest. But when the reply came, it was nothing like Hiro had been waiting for. "I'm very sorry, Hiro; I can't guarantee that you'll behave yet. It's simply much too early. This is still just the first stage."

Hiro shut his eyes tightly. His stomach dropped to his feet, and he felt his eyes prick and burn. Frustration seared beneath his skin like fire. He did his best to try and push it down, but when he spoke next, his voice was very obviously deflated in comparison to what it normally was. The slight wish in the back of his mind that he could get out of this easily had just been butchered and killed. Eventually he couldn't take it any longer. Weakly, he asked: "…What do you _want_ from me?"

He expected the response to be the same. He was bracing himself for some other kind of blow, or a voice raised into a piercing scream. But surprisingly, he got neither of those things. All that hit his eardrums was a small sigh— one that suddenly seemed loaded with sorrow or regret. He cracked open his eyes and looked back up to see that the person's face had indeed clouded over. Again, that incessant sense of hope and optimism broke through his concentration. Were they realizing that all of this wasn't okay? That it was bad? Would they let him go?

"Have you…Hiro, have you ever had a family member that died? Or moved away and never came back?" Their eyes were shadowed over with something dark now, which caused Hiro to become unnerved and off-put. They were staring right at Hiro, but the body felt awkward, as if they weren't looking _at_ him, they were just looking _through_ him. Or at least something like that. "Have you ever missed someone so terribly that it was all you could think about?" Their voice was the smallest of mumbles now; the boy had to wonder if they were even talking to him anymore, or if they were just talking to themselves.

Hiro was caught off-guard. He blanched, forgetting to be scared as confusion crowded over him instead. He hesitated, trying to swallow the question as best he could and figure out what he was actually meaning. The person continued to stare oddly at him, so Hiro eventually brought himself to speak again. "I…I guess so." The only people in his immediate family that had died were his parents, and they had passed away when he was three. He didn't really remember them all that much, so he couldn't miss them too severely. Right now, he missed Aunt Cass and Tadashi…did that count? "Yeah, I have."

They seemed to be pleased with this answer. A sad little smile crawled over their face, and they gave a slow nod. "Then you understand how much it can hurt. How bad it feels when someone close to you is gone." Hiro kept his guard up, eyeing the man wearily. He wasn't sure where this was going. The person shifted closer, reaching back into his pocket. Hiro gritted his teeth, instantly leaning away from the man with a sense of distrust. But they seemed to not notice it— or if they did, they didn't show any sign. They just sidled so that they could be at Hiro's side. And slowly from their pocket, they took out a small piece of paper. No— it was two pieces folded together.

The person took apart the two folded pieces and opened up the first of them. He extended his arm to show it to Hiro, and the boy quickly realized that it wasn't just a piece of paper; it was a photograph. It was faded and worn— the edges of the photo were curled, showing the wear and tear of constant holding or moving around. It wasn't that good of quality, but the image was still able to be picked apart with ease.

It was a little girl; she was probably only fix or six. She had long brown hair that was tied back into cute little pigtails in twin bows. Along with a bright blue dress and a white sweater, she was also wearing a gap-toothed smile. In her left hand she held a lunchbox that was covered in pretty flowers, and she was wearing a backpack that looked much too big for her. In the background, Hiro could see a large elementary school, with other kids milling inside, frozen mid-step. The little girl was wearing a nametag, Hiro narrowing his eyes into a squint to try and make out the name.

'Abigail Callaghan.'

Callaghan…that name— that name was familiar, wasn't it? He knew it from somewhere, but…but where?

The person took away the photo before Hiro could track it down. Then he reached over and showed him the next photo he had. It looked like it was the same girl— this time just much older. Hiro was not sure on the exact number, but he would guess about eleven or twelve. Her hair was longer, pulled up into a bun this time. She was decked out in winter gear, a pair ice skates laced to her feet. She was pulling down a thick scarf with one hand, and she was using her other to flash a peace sign at the camera. She was wearing glasses now— thanks to the ice skating, the thin black frames were slightly crooked on her face.

Hiro stared at the photo, still confused as to why this person was showing him the pictures, and still trying to track down that name at the same time. Callaghan…he knew it, he _knew it_. Where had he heard it before!?

"This…is my daughter," the person said, Hiro rousing at the introduction. Hiro blinked and looked at it again, realizing that there were some similarities between the two. This girl had the same blue eyes; she probably had the same brown hair, though this person's was now grayed over. Their voice was filled with affection as they went on, though there was a notable sense of remorse in their tone at the same time. "She was the cutest little girl in the whole wide world. And lucky me…I was able to have her."

Hiro blinked slowly, turning and looking anxiously at the man. Despite the sad manner of the story so far, Hiro could only feel a sense of growing apprehension and nausea. But the person just went on, not even looking at him. "We named her Abigail— after my wife's mother. But…well, eventually Abigail was all I had. It's not as if I minded; she was enough for me and more." He paused for a moment, seeming to be in some kind of thought. Hiro looked from the picture to his captor, his heart still lodged up firmly into his throat. "I loved her so much; you have to understand. She was…my little angel."

Hiro grimaced. He didn't want to hear any of this. He wanted to go _home_.

"And then…" The person broke off, as if his thoughts were suddenly snapped in half. Hiro perked nervously at the change, feeling the panic begin to leak back into his system. The man stared at the picture for a few moments more, completely silent. His eyes clouded over in anger, and Hiro's fright blossomed quicker than he could try to shove it down. The person looked up from the picture to stare into space for nearly fifteen whole seconds of silence, in which the only noise in the entire room was Hiro's breathing, which was softly growing unsteady.

Still staring into space, the person mumbled softly: "She died." Hiro blinked, his eyebrows pulling together in worry. Again, he had to wonder why he was being told this. "It…" He was having a hard time speaking, all of a sudden. "It shouldn't have happened." Hiro noticed that the picture crumpled slightly as the person's grip on it increased. "She was still so little. So…" He trailed off. Hiro was tense, panicked as he waited for what would happen next with a sense of dread. So far this person wasn't the most temperamental of people. What happened when they got sad?

The person closed their eyes and took a deep breath. Hiro's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. It was the only bad habit that he could utilize at the moment, considering he was tied up, and everything else he could move hurt too much to do so. It didn't help all that much to release stress, but he would take anything at the moment. The person fell silent for a few moments, which felt like more like ages to Hiro, who was sitting with bated breath. Suddenly he found that he was much too close to this person. A jittery feeling spread through him, and Hiro wished nothing more than just _distance_. He would _drag_ himself away if he just had the ability to move.

The person's eyes opened his eyes again, and Hiro swallowed nervously as they turned back to look at him. But to the boy's wary surprise, they seemed composed enough again. If not growing back to their optimism. "But this is where you come in, Hiro," he said, his voice suddenly doing a 180 as it went right back to upbeat. The teenager blinked and didn't reply, just looking at them with a hint of fear in the back of his eyes. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. They went on before he had to decide. "You see, I was very lucky to hear about you. You're just like her, after all."

"You…wait, where did you hear about me from?" Hiro asked, forgetting to keep his voice low in his surprise.

The person's look hardened, and Hiro shut his mouth quickly, regretting the question. Why did he think that the question would even serve a purpose? Since when had did they seem willing to listen what he had to say, much less answer his questions? Sure enough, their voice was brittle and taut as they said: "Hiro, you should not speak unless I ask you to. Is that understood?" Hiro only stared, his stomach seizing again. They repeated the question, and the boy was alarmed by the amount of venom that was quick to seep into their voice. "Hiro, I said you do not speak unless I ask you to. _Do you understand_?" Hiro slowly opened his mouth, trying to form words from the terror that was shrouding his mind. He was not quick enough as the person snapped: "Do you want me to put this tape back on, Hiro?"

He found his voice. "No! I mean, yes! I mean…I won't talk," he said, his voice wilting with the last few syllables.

They nodded. "Good. Hurting you is the _last_ thing that I want to do, Hiro." The boy leaned backwards, the movement reminding him of the pain in his back with a sharp stab. This person had already run him over with their car and then hit him over the head soon after. If hurting him was the last thing that they wanted to do, then they were doing an _awful_ job of it. "Because, like I said, you are exactly like my Abigail. She was smart, just like you. She loved to learn, just like you. She went off into reckless bot fights, like you. She was sweet, like you."

They leaned over and ruffled Hiro's hair, the movement causing pain to burst through his already-aching head. He had to bite down on his lip to keep from screaming. A thick noise of pain did manage to escape his closed mouth, though. At this, the person tilted their head to the side and looked at him almost lovingly. Hiro pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep from gagging, in response. "And she was just as stubborn as you, too. You're everything that she was, Hiro. Curious, intelligent, witty, cute, feisty…if you weren't you wouldn't be here, right now. But you _are_. Don't you understand? If you weren't Abigail, you wouldn't have been there in the city there for me."

Hiro was shaking now. There was a heavy feeling in his chest, and now he was left wanting to backtrack. He had been sitting here for forever wanting nothing more than the truth. Now that he could feel himself getting close to it, he just wanted to cover his ears and turn away. He wanted to curl away from all of this— he wanted to be in his own bed, at home, with Tadashi and Aunt Cass to run to for safety. He didn't want to know why he was here; in a way, he felt as if knowing could make all of this suddenly permanent. Irreversible and completely unavoidable.

"This isn't a coincidence, Hiro," the person went on to urge. They were still smiling from ear-to-ear. They didn't even acknowledge the fact that Hiro's breathing had picked back up. "You were led to me solely for this reason. Why else would this be happening?" They reached over, pressing their hand to Hiro's cheek and trying to raise the boy's head enough for him to look up again. Hiro gritted his teeth together so hard that their very roots ached. "You were meant to be my replacement! You were—"

Hiro jerked away, the pain from the sharp movement, and his overall inability to process what was happening, coming out in a thick sob. The person's eyes narrowed slightly, and he leaned over, grabbing Hiro's face with tighter hold— one hard enough to bring another sob from the boy. Far too roughly, he wrenched Hiro's head back into place so that Hiro was forced to look straight at him. "Open your eyes, Hiro," he ordered scathingly. When Hiro kept them screwed tightly shut, the person only repeated their order harsher. "Hiro, I said _open your eyes. Look at me_!"

Hiro complied with another shrink, his lower lip trembling as tears leaked down his face. Again, Tadashi's words echoed in the back of his mind. _'Hiro, will crying make anything better? …That's right. So there's no reason to do it.'_ But he couldn't stop— not now. He sniffed, unable to pull away with the amount of force that was rooting him in spot. The person glared down at him for another moment more, as if they were drinking up the fear that was alive in the boy's eyes. Then they melted, smiling again. "Don't worry," he reassured tenderly. "She was stubborn too. This is just another reason that you were meant to come here to me." Hiro fought the urge to pry himself away. He was going to be sick. "But we'll sort everything out. Soon enough, you'll be absolutely perfect. We'll be family, you and me. It'll be like Abigail never even left."

"For…for how long?" Hiro could not keep the question from escaping. He was not asked to speak, and as soon as he spoke, he wanted to smack himself. He was so stupid! He couldn't keep his mind in the moment enough to keep track of what he was doing. And more importantly, what he _shouldn't_ be doing. He was too busy panicking on the inside, going every which way, and wondering where on _earth_ he had heard of the name 'Callaghan' before. It was on the tip of his tongue! Why couldn't he just think of who it was?

But thankfully, the person took the question as one of excitement as opposed to one of dread or apprehension. They nodded and grinned, letting go of Hiro's chin. But rather than leaving entirely, the person reached over instead to press his hand against the child's cheek, his thumb stroking his skin lovingly, revulsion bubbling up from the pit of Hiro's stomach to choke at his airway. He managed to keep still, for fear of what could happen if he did the opposite. But his eyes did flicker away; he wasn't strong enough to look levelly forward.

The person didn't notice though. "We'll be a family. We'll be happy, we'll be so happy; I promise. Soon enough you won't even be able to _remember_ your old family. They'll mean nothing to you." He paused and added: "This will just…take some time. But that's alright. Because now…time is all we have! I get…" His voice got softer, and he looked at Hiro with that same odd look, as if he was looking through the boy, and not directly at him. "I get so much time with you…I get to have you for the rest of your life." His heart plummeted, and once again, Hiro was forced to try and keep himself controlled. But it was getting to be too hard— it was getting to be too impossible. He couldn't keep doing this.

"Callaghan." Again, Hiro was speaking out of term. But the name forced its way out, and the boy was stricken as he was suddenly slapped with the realization of where he had heard that name before. Hs eyes flew back over to the man across from him, and his voice was the smallest of trembles as he asked: "You're…are you…Robert Callaghan?" he asked. Callaghan was such an uncommon name. But…but surely this couldn't be the same person? The person across from him was crazy; they were mean and they were cruel and completely out of their mind. They weren't the intelligent person that Hiro had looked up to and admired! It just _couldn't_ be the same person! "Ca…Callaghan's Laws of Robotics?"

But they grinned and immediately Hiro was blindsided. "See? I knew you were smart."

Hiro's breathing quickened tenfold at this, the teenager's mind beginning to strain and collapse underneath everything that was going on. His chest heaved for air, and once again he was reminded of the pressure that was pushing down on his lungs, hindering their ability to take in enough air. At this change in the boy, Callaghan blinked, looking alarmed as he asked: "Hiro? Hiro, what's the matter?"

"I-I…" There were too many things to list, and they would all cause him physical injury. He squeezed his eyes shut, ducking his head and eventually blurting out in a shriek: "I need to use the bathroom!" Callaghan didn't react for a moment, and Hiro looked up, his eyes wide and wild now. "Please let me use the bathroom!"

Callaghan considered it silently for a moment, looking at Hiro carefully. The boy was struggling to keep himself together, looking down at himself and noticing with yet another stroke of panic that his vision was blurring and shaking. He wanted to run away, he wanted to claw himself out, he wanted to do _anything_ but stay tied up for _one second longer_. He was on the verge of screaming – exactly what he was told not to do – when Callaghan relented. He leaned over and started at the knot that kept Hiro so firmly in place. It took much too long to get the ropes undone, as Hiro squirmed and writhed in the sheer effort to keep still.

But eventually they fell completely, and Hiro took the first opportunity he could to gasp in a sharp gulp of air, reaching up and rubbing at his face. Before he could think it through, he pushed himself up to his feet, aiming to make a beeline for the door. But as soon as he stood, and as soon as he tried to put weight on his leg, he was plummeting straight back for the floor. He hit it with a thud, unable to stand thanks to his lame leg and stiff joints. A pained whimper started in the back of his throat, and he pushed himself up, his head spinning as the ground seemed to sway underneath him.

"Don't worry," Hiro dug his fingernails into the ground at the soft coo that came from the man beside him. Hiro felt arms circle around him, and before the boy had the chance to even yelp in objection, he was being lifted up. Callaghan held Hiro much too close, in the way a father would their child that fell asleep in the car. Hiro was acutely aware of the fact he was trembling from head to toe, but Robert did not comment on the fact. He just held Hiro even tighter, turning and exiting the room. The silver beads clacked noisily as they went through, and Hiro's heart was clenched in cold claws as he stared numbly at the once-pretty things, that were now a form of an alarm system.

Apparently the bathroom was not far. It was the nearest door to them, only a few paces to the left down the hall. There were other doors – numerus ones – further down that were a mystery. Callaghan put Hiro down gingerly, as if he was afraid of breaking him. When really, that was all he was doing. Hiro stumbled at first, his eyes welling up with tears at the severe pain that was wrapped around his leg and clenching into his back. He was forced to walk in a limp, putting all his weight on his better leg as he was just left to deal with the pain elsewhere. There wasn't anything he could do for that.

"I'll be right here, waiting," Callaghan said, eyeing the boy warningly. Hiro blinked, clutching the wall for support as he stared back silently, wondering if the man was joking. But he wasn't. About anything. Hiro's hopes that this was all just some misunderstanding were being kicked into the ground, though he was trying his best not to notice. He turned, grabbing the handle of the door and staggering weakly over the threshold. After being in one position for so long, he felt like he was a baby deer, just now figuring out how long, spindly legs worked.

He wasted no time in slamming the door behind him, and at least after that he could know for a fact that there was a solid barrier in between him and…and Robert Callaghan. He turned, still holding onto the door for leverage as he started to look wildly around the room. Was there a way out? A window he could open and crawl out of, or maybe even look through to hail people down for help? No. It was walls all around. The most dangerous thing he could use in here as a weapon was probably a razor blade in the shower, and that wouldn't do any good at all.

He stumbled, heading further into the room as he kept to a wall for help in staying upright. He looked around desperately. For help— any sign of help. But he got none. All he got was a regular, normal bathroom. A sink, a tum, a showerhead, some toys, and a specific color scheme that began and ended at the threshold of the door. His shoulders heaved as he breathed irregularly, and he came to a stop, disappointment stacking up to an intolerable level.

He turned, catching sight of himself in the mirror. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, shadows of bags beginning to form underneath them. His face was streaked with tears, and, just like he suspected, the lower half of his face was scratched and irritated from the applying, and sharp removing, of tape. He was standing at a slant thanks to his leg, and his back was hunched in an odd sort of way in his attempts to alleviate pressure from its lower end.

His lower lip trembled as he stared at himself, only growing more and more violent with each passing second.

What was he supposed to do from now on?

What was he supposed to _do_!?

Everything about this situation was messed up. It was coming at him from all sides, and he had no idea what to do in the wake of it. Where was Tadashi? Where was Aunt Cass? Why weren't they looking for him yet? Was _anybody_ looking? Was he really going to be stuck here forever? Would nobody come for him? Could he not get out of here? His hands, scratched and red from scraping against the pavement, shook and trembled at his sides uncontrollably. His good leg began to shake as well, and despite the fact that he closed his eyes and tried desperately to get himself under control, the effort was completely in vain.

He stumbled away from the wall, staggering forward and collapsing against the tiled floor with a heavy thud. Hiro's leg screeched in pain at the contact, but for once he ignored it completely. He just reached over with tremor-ridden hands and pushed the lid of the toilet up with an abrupt slam. He couldn't hold himself together anymore; his mind shattered in its tough resolve.

He had nothing at all in his stomach, but it was instantaneous that he jerked forward, hunching over the bowl and getting violently sick.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: Thank you for reading! I managed to update all my stories during Thanksgiving Break, so that's awesome! If you enjoyed this chapter, I would love to hear it from you in a review! Again, if I don't get ten reviews, I am not abandoning this story— the update could just be delayed. If you all would prefer a swifter update, I would be more than happy to comply once I get some good feedback to build off of for this chapter! And also, I hope that there aren't any typos in here. I would be pleased as punch to go back and fix any that you may see. I've been debating about getting a beta reader for my stories, so…

I hope you have an awesome week! Thank you again for reading! : )


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thank you so much! I asked you guys for feedback and got exactly that! I appreciate it so much, so hopefully I will upload this before Finals start. I will continue to wait for ten reviews before updating, but as you can probably tell, this is a much easier way to organize updates. So anyway, thank you for your reviews, I hope to hear from you again, and most importantly, I hope you like this chapter!

And A LOT of people have asked about Abigail! Do not worry! I plan to have this be a very long and in-depth story if everything works out. I've got so much planned, and Abigail is going to be a very prominent figure! You'll know more about her with each passing chapter more and more! I'm so excited to write it and I hope you guys are excited to read all that I have in store!

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro wasn't getting sick for very long— as it was, the boy didn't have much in his stomach, if there was anything at all. He forced the sickness out of him as best he could, however even when he pulled away from the bowl of the toilet, he found that the ill sensation still lingered to crawl and itch underneath his skin. The boy sagged to the side, the room spinning around him as he closed his eyes to try and shut it out. His head was throbbing and his stomach clenched. Coupled with the pain in his body, he just wanted to curl up in a ball and hide from…well, _everything_.

He was beginning to entertain the idea. His leg was aching already from the strain he had put on it just to stagger in here. He wasn't sure whether or not he could get off the floor without the strength in his back to hold himself up. Certainly the thought of lying down and not moving at all would be more than a relief? But he didn't get a chance to succumb to such an idea. The bathroom door opened and Hiro stiffened as he realized that Callaghan was making a panicked beeline for him.

In the frazzled, tense moment, Hiro's mind flew to the possibility of rocketing to his feet and dodging past his captor. He could rush out the door and make a break for the exit. The plan was a weak one at the very most. He had no idea where he would go even if he could get over the threshold, and it wasn't like he could outpace his kidnapper with his leg the way it was. Not that he had the opportunity to try anything. He didn't have the chance to give the smallest of twitches before he felt pressure wrap around him.

Immediately, he found himself flinching away. He tried to skitter backwards; he could count on one hand the number of times he'd come into contact with this person, but each time, he had been attacked or injured. Less than five times he had interacted with Callaghan, and Hiro was already forming the habit of cringing away. The older man didn't seem to notice the fact that Hiro curled away; or if he did, he didn't care. Arms just circled around Hiro's shoulders and pulled him close. A frightened squeak died in the back of his throat as the child felt himself being hugged against Callaghan's chest.

"Hiro, Hiro are you alright?" Worry and concern was prominent in the voice that murmured against his hair. Hiro didn't answer. His eyes were wide and hollow— numb, as they stared off to the side. He was frozen in the grip; even if he _could_ move, he had no idea what he would do. Callaghan cradled the child like he was some sort of distraught infant, and Hiro gritted his teeth as he felt fingers begin to card through his hair. "I'm sorry. Don't worry— you're alright. Do you feel better now, at least?"

Hiro's stomach curbed. His eyes narrowed and the boy realized that his eyesight blurred over as a sense of disgust sank into him. Despite the sensation, he locked his jaw backwards and tried to keep himself controlled. The pain still centered in his head reminded him that he should not speak without hindsight. Or, at the very least, a second thought. It was a hard thing to do; keeping back a scream or a thrash seemed the equivalent to keeping down a second sickness episode. Struggling, he curled his hands into fists and tried to ignore the way his nerves were grating against one another.

Callaghan pulled back just enough to look down at Hiro, his eyebrows knitted. When Hiro did not reply, he just seemed to grow more concerned. "You don't look so good, Hiro." Bitterly, Hiro tried as best he could to look past the tone of voice he used when he spoke. It made Hiro remember times when he had been sick from school or that time when he had broken his arm in high school after being shoved by some kid. Aunt Cass always fretted over him like he was on his deathbed. It had always made him flustered and irritated, yet in the back of his mind he always harbored a sense of affection for his aunt.

The worry, the anxiousness, the sense of strained responsibility— those were always in Aunt Cass' voice when Hiro was sick or something was wrong. Now it was all in Callaghan's voice. As if he had some right to look at or speak to Hiro like Cass would. Strong, somewhat inappropriate, words were building and stacking on the back of Hiro's tongue like nothing he had ever experienced before. He had spat out enough insults in the course of his life – it was hard not to, when you were bullied in high school like he was – but his need to screech and jeer was nothing compared to what it was now.

Knowing that he couldn't just made it all the more worse.

"You just need more rest." Callaghan seemed to come to his own conclusion. On the brink and already faltering in his ability to keep his teeth clamped together, Hiro grimaced. However, the man still couldn't seem to notice it. "You're still feeling ill, aren't you?" He didn't even pause for Hiro to speak, as if he knew that the boy wasn't going to. "A good sleep will make everything feel better, I promise. Don't you worry." He rubbed Hiro's shoulder gently as he murmured this, and the child focused on not swallowing, for fear that he would accidentally start gagging instead.

Hiro felt Callaghan's arms unwrap from his shoulders and move underneath him instead. He was lifted up from the ground, again held in a cradle-like fashion. The child halfway considered pushing Robert away and walking by himself. But he knew that if he did such a thing, he would likely get heavy consequences from his captor. At the very least, he would just fall flat on his face. He couldn't walk properly with his leg the way it was. It'd be a pointless effort either way.

He had no idea what was actually wrong with it. He had taken Anatomy in high school for some dumb reason he couldn't remember. And precisely like that dumb reason, he didn't remember enough material to be able to draw conclusion on what could actually be wrong with his limb. All he knew was that it felt like it was on fire, and whenever he tried to put weight on it, it simply went limp and refused. But, really, he didn't have to take Anatomy to know that this was probably the _guaranteed_ result of getting slammed by a car. Even if he didn't know what was wrong with it, it didn't really change the fact that it just couldn't be used anymore.

There was no point in worrying about it. What he should worry about, was whether or not Callaghan would do anything to help him with the injury. He wasn't sure— though it made him sick to think such a way, he knew that with his leg hurting like this, there was little to no chance of him being able to escape. Keeping him here would be much easier if Hiro was forced to drag this hindrance along behind him. His leg hurt enough when it was just propped in the crook of Callaghan's elbow. If he had tried to walk on his own, it would be the same pain, and tenfold. He wasn't even going to consider what running would feel like.

With each step, Hiro dreaded the idea of being jostled or jolted. His back was already aching, being curved in such a way, and his leg pricked and burned with each small bounce. He grimaced, being forced to hold onto the front of Callaghan's shirt in the effort to stay balanced as best he could. The sense of dependency that was slowly building itself between him and this person who was forcing him to stay here was revolting in itself. His stomach was nauseous just at the thought of it.

Callaghan headed back to the room that Hiro had woken up in. The one with the posters and the wallpaper with the butterflies and the bright-colored bed. Realizing that he was just going right back to where he started, Hiro tried to think of something – anything – that would help maybe alter the path. He had no idea what the rest of the house looked like, and all he really wanted to do was go back home to where Aunt Cass and Tadashi were. But he did know for a fact that if he was tied back the way he had been before, then he was going to scream.

Wracking his mind and finally landing on the only thing that he thought wouldn't spark Callaghan into anger, the boy spoke up. Though his voice was quiet, as if he was hesitant to try his luck again at all. At this point, he couldn't really be blamed for the feeling, though, could he? "My leg," he said, his voice a soft mumble. He refused to look up at Callaghan— again, doing his best not to be provoking or challenging. As best he could anyway.

Callaghan immediately perked at the sound of the boy's voice. He stopped in the middle of the hall, pulling back and looking down at him with a blink. "Did you say something, Hiro?" Underneath the initial layer of concern that was there, Hiro could tell that there was also a layer of happiness and enthrallment that the child had decided to speak first. Up until this point, conversations had been literally dragged out of his mouth. Anxious and almost desperate to draw a willful interaction from the younger, Callaghan pressed again: "What was that?"

Hiro blenched. Yet he managed to maintain enough resolve to keep going. He couldn't stop— not now. "My leg hurts. And my back." He locked his jaw backwards, trying to push down the swell of not only pain, but also shame. Shame at the fact that he needed to ask the person who had _given_ him these injuries for help in managing them. But by now, it was just the last resort. What else was he supposed to do? "My back and my leg— they hurt. I can't walk." He grimaced, swallowing thickly before adding: "It hurts."

Callaghan paused for a long moment, digesting the information. He seemed to put much more thought than he needed into thinking over what he was just handed. However, he did eventually reply. "I see," he said, glancing down at the boy's leg with a small frown. "I'm very sorry to hear that— I didn't mean to hurt you as much as I had." Hiro was barely able to hide the scowl that flickered over his face briefly. "Tell you what, Hiro: if you keep on behaving – if you don't act out – I'll make sure to help patch you up. And I'm sure that I have some medication I could give you for the pain, so you shouldn't worry."

 _Medicine_. The next time Hiro would take medicine from this person would be over his dead body.

Callaghan began walking again, but Hiro couldn't keep back a second question. The pain centered deep into his bones was just too much. He felt like he was going to scream if he had to endure it for much longer. "What if it's broken?" he asked, feeling like some kind of persistent kid that could never shut up. His voice remained low, and Hiro was starting to wonder whether or not this was permanent change. Again, the intrusive thought was enough to flip his stomach.

Callaghan was cheerful. It was like Hiro was trying to stab at a balloon with a needle, and it just refused to pop for some reason. It was certainly enough to bring a boil to his blood. "I'm sure it isn't broken, Hiro. Just tweaked a little bit. No need to worry or fret." Hiro managed to keep a growl from escaping his throat, but it was hard. He just remained limp in the other's grip, travelling the rest of the way to the room Hiro had been fenced in. He wasn't sure what he should call it, really. Was it _his_ room? Or was it that girl's? Abigail's?

Regardless of the technicalities, all that mattered was that it was now a makeshift prison. For what seemed like the millionth time, he listened to the mechanical tinkling of the silver beads as they passed under them. Callaghan walked over to the edge of the bed, and Hiro was starting to think that maybe he could be allowed to actually lay down. It wasn't much, but in comparison to the stiff position he had been tied into before, it was surely a step up in terms of comfort.

The brief hope was dashed when he was just put down on the ground instead. He flinched when his leg was settled back on the floor, and his back was forced to rest against the wood of the furniture. But he wisely kept the thoughts to himself. There wasn't any more use in complaining about them if they just went through one ear and out the other. He did shift though, in the attempt to try and get himself in the least agonizing position possible. It didn't do much. Surprise, surprise.

Callaghan started to fetch the rope that he had he left over by the support beam, where Hiro had first woken up. Hiro watched him coil the binding up in his hands and start back over towards him, and a sense of fear and frustrated panic began to wrap around his throat. His expression crumbled, and despite his injuries, he tried to skitter backwards. "No…please don't, please, I can just-" Callaghan grabbed at his arms and pulled them back behind him, positioning them so that they could be tied behind one of the corner bedposts. Wriggling and trying vainly to get out from under the man's grip, Hiro's voice was high-pitched and strained. "I'll stay in one place, I promise, just please don't—"

"Now, now, Hiro; if you make any more of a fuss, I'll have no choice but to put tape over your mouth again. Is that what you want?" Hiro jerked, his nails digging back into the palms of his hands as he seethed inwardly. He did not reply, grinding his teeth together painfully instead. He felt the rope wrap around his wrists and begin to tighten as the rough strands bit into his skin. He tried to swallow down the growing disgust in his stomach. After a moment or two of silence, Callaghan paused and pulled back a little bit so that he could look at the other fully. He raised his eyebrows, his gaze just as biting as the rope. Harder, he asked: " _Is that what you want, Hiro_?"

He tried to shove down his fear. But his voice was still clenched with seeds of panic as he whispered: "…No." Callaghan beamed widely in response, and Hiro closed his eyes tightly in defeat as he felt the ropes being worked on once more. They were tightened and tightened for so long that Hiro was fearing the prospect of his blood circulation being cut off. Eventually Callaghan deemed it secure enough to hold the boy back, drawing away from his work after tugging a few times to ensure its stability.

He shuffled back again so that he could crouch in front of Hiro, still wearing that weird smile that looked much too threatening. The teenager swallowed uncomfortably, trying not to meet Callaghan's gaze straight-on. Anything he could do to try and comfort himself, he would take…even if it was less than satisfactory. "That should be a little bit more comfortable for you, right, Hiro?" he asked, his voice soft and encouraging. His eyes flickering over to look at his kidnapper, Hiro felt a rush of bitterness tug at him as he realized that he was still being looked at with that over-loaded stare of love. It felt _weird_ and _wrong_. It made him want to get sick; or at the very least, take a shower. He felt gross.

But Callaghan did have a point, even if Hiro wasn't too keen on giving this guy any slack whatsoever. With just his hands tied back, at least he had a little bit more maneuverability. Maybe he could even shift to the side and lay down, albeit awkwardly. He would settle.

Knowing that if he didn't reply, he would likely get yelled at, Hiro offered a dull mumble that he hoped would suffice. "Yeah. I guess."

This only caused Callaghan to be happier, and Hiro almost wished that he could have held a little bit more defiance. The man smiled and reached over, tousling the boy's hair affectionately. He fought not to duck away in response. "You see, Hiro? I'm a very flexible person. You're being very good now; if you stay this way, then you'll see that there's nothing but a bright future between the two of us. I sincerely hope you're as excited as I am." He seemed genuine and truthful with what he said. It made it all the more sickening.

Hiro didn't give an answer, but this time apparently Callaghan was not looking for one. He moved on, a little bit of sadness and regret leaking into his eyes. "I'm afraid that I do have to leave, now." He turned and glanced down at his watch, seeming distressed at the time that was displayed back at him. "A few weeks ago I made a commitment to meet up with a few other professors today." He gave a small sigh and shrugged his shoulders. "And if I suddenly back out, well— people might get suspicious." He winked at Hiro and stood up with a flourish. "We can't have that."

Hiro swallowed, but couldn't bring himself to reply. He didn't even know what someone would say in response to that.

Callaghan looked at him in silence for a few minutes more. "I'll be back," he promised. "Don't worry about a thing." Funny— no matter how many times Callaghan told him not to worry, it did squat to help him. "Maybe if you keep up your good behavior, then you'll be able to go out and spend some time together like this too. We could go out for ice cream…go for walks in the park…it'll be just like old times. Isn't that something?"

Hiro perked at this. Was Robert really this stupid, or did he just speak without thinking? Would he really take Hiro out in public? If he was being serious…if he really meant it…then…maybe that could be his ticket out of here! If he just had to…'behave' or whatever else Callaghan wanted…then he could just fake his way out. Once he was let out to go wherever Callaghan did, all he would have to do from there is flag someone down. It wasn't the best plan in terms of speed. And he wasn't even sure whether or not Callaghan meant what he said.

But with this idea, he wouldn't have to worry about moving on his lame leg. He wouldn't have to outrun Callaghan or anything like that. It was the easiest way to get out of here so far. Even if it seemed a little bit too good to be true. With a jolt of panic, he realized that he had fallen silent, apparently getting too sidetracked in his thoughts. He had to force himself to reengage, not missing the stare that Callaghan was now resting on him. Weakly, Hiro tried a smile. He could feel the insincerity writing itself across his face, but he tried to speak clearly anyway. "Okay," he said, raising the volume of his voice cautiously. "…Yeah. That…that would be fun."

Callaghan grinned again. Hiro's own wavered a little bit as he realized that something about this smile seemed a little bit different from the others. He couldn't put his finger on it, of course. If he could put his finger on it, maybe it would lessen his nerves. The fact that it was hard to track down, made it even worse. Callaghan nodded, still having that odd expression on his face. But his voice didn't hold anything odd in it when he spoke next. "Alright. You go ahead and stay right here."

He was starting to hope that that would be it. That Callaghan would leave him like this. But his heart dropped low to his feet when the older man went back over to the post, fetching the duct tape. Again, Hiro wilted, and tried his best to change his mind. He told himself that it wouldn't make any difference at all, but he couldn't let it all pass without him at least attempting against it. "No wait; please, you don't have to put that— I'll be quiet, I promise. Just…I don't want to—"

"Hiro, are you going to behave, or are we doing to have an issue?" Callaghan asked coldly, looking at the boy with a sharper stare in comparison to what it had been before. There was something there in the back of his gaze that immediately shut Hiro up, though his eyes began to burn again. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried before this— it was probably that time that Tadashi had accidentally punched him in the face during that game of Twister. He didn't make a habit out of it, certainly. But now he could hardly go twenty minutes without having his eyes glaze over in hot water.

"I didn't think so," Callaghan remarked, yanking out a long strip of duct tape only to tear it off and press it tightly to Hiro's mouth. It felt so good to have it off, and to have it just strapped back on was mind-shattering. Hiro let out an angry sob, closing his eyes tightly and resisting the urge to smack his head back against the bedpost. "Shhh…don't be upset," the man cooed, reaching up to thread his fingers through the child's hair. "I'll be _right_ back, okay? Don't be worried."

Hiro didn't react to him. He just hung his head, trying to move his hands but with no success.

"Okay. You be good here, alright? I know you will, of course." Hiro felt his hair ruffled again. The boy cracked open his eyes to watch his captor stand. He seemed slightly reluctant to leave, but with time ticking short, he didn't have much of a choice. "I'll be back and then maybe we can fix some dinner." Hiro blinked in a sense of surprise. It hadn't occurred to him yet that the last time he had eaten was two days ago. If his assumption on the day was correct, that was.

Before now, his hunger was probably a secondary concern. Crazy as it sounds, but when you find yourself run over by a car, tied up in this person's house, and your leg was probably broken, you didn't really have a chance to sit back and go: "Huh. I could really go for a burger right now." You had a few other things to sort through before you got to that one. But now that it was brought up, Hiro became acutely aware of the gaping emptiness that was in his stomach. He was starving. But…could he really take food from this person? Last time he had taken something from them, it had landed him here.

He guessed that it really couldn't get any worse.

But the worrying was pointless right now. Callaghan offered him one last grin – which caused one more shiver to go down Hiro's spine – before turning and exiting the room. The silver beads rattled loudly in his wake. He closed the door on his way out, and again, Hiro found himself completely alone. But at least he could breathe easy, since this time ropes weren't crushing his lungs. He blinked, looking down at himself and taking in a slow inhale. He shifted to the side, grimacing deeply in agony as he twisted. If he could just lay down on the floor, his back might feel a little bit better…

It took a much longer amount of time than he thought it would. He blamed it on his lame leg. But eventually he got enough room to lower himself down. It didn't help his back as much as he thought it would— it still felt like someone was stabbing him through. But he had been sitting for too long. Even if his back was still injured, the rest of his body was thankful for the chance to into any other position. He let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes and stretching out his good leg with a pinched look.

He opened his eyes, staring over at the door with a forlorn look. He sucked in air through his nose and tried to call out, but the result was pointless. His yell would barely get into the hall, let alone get outside where someone might hear. Disappointment and self-pity welled up in his chest. He wanted to leave— he wanted to go home. He wanted Aunt Cass and he wanted Tadashi. Where _were_ they? Did they not realize he was gone? Were they looking for him? But even if they were, would it even matter? How could anyone find him when he was fenced up like this? How could he get out of this situation?

His eyes blurred over even more at the thought, though the better part of himself reminded him that crying was pointless. Even more so when he lacked the ability to reach up and wipe the tears away. Even so, he couldn't stop. This whole thing was so impossible. And after that weird look that Callaghan had given him after he had eagerly agreed to going outside made him feel even more desolated. Callaghan…out of every single person on this entire earth, it was Robert Callaghan to have him here. Hiro had looked up to him so much, had used this man's tactics to make his greatest robot projects. And now…

It was too much to believe. It sounded like some kind of horror movie that got low ratings because it was so cliché. He kept waiting for himself to wake up from some bad nightmare, but it just dragged on. He couldn't wake up.

Why was he here? To fill in for some other person? The explanation had been rushed and glazed over— it was hard to understand it, it went by so fast. This girl…was her name Abigail? He was…was he supposed to _be_ her? He had no idea who she was! She was dead, right? That was what Robert had said? How had she died? What happened to her? Why hadn't Callaghan moved on from her death like normal people usually did? What was even expected of him to do when he was like this?

How was he supposed to get out of this mess?

What was he supposed to _do_?

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

The house was quiet. You never really realize how loud a person is, and how much livelier they make a place, until they're gone. Then it's more than obvious. It's like a giant chasm has replaced the person. Tadashi would rather have Hiro here being immature and throwing fits over this. He felt like there hadn't been a laugh to bounce off the walls in ages. The only hustle and bustle that occurred in the house was during store hours, and even then it was very clear that something was wrong.

He had taken off of school work for the weekend, telling himself that he could make it all up some time later. Instead he helped Aunt Cass manage the cafe— it was an everyday chore that usually seemed so trivial and simplistic, that now was more along the lines of impossible. With everything going on the way it was, that is. It was Sunday, and there was still no news about Hiro. The police had been looking, and posters were being put up around the city to alert everyone else that was there. But still nothing. Nobody even thought they had caught a _glimpse_ of his baby brother. It was like he had just vanished in a puff of air.

The longer this all went on, the worse off that Aunt Cass grew. She didn't mention it a lot, and so far she hadn't stopped Tadashi long enough to talk about it for longer than a few words. And Tadashi wasn't going to be the one to broach the subject. But he didn't need to talk to her to know that she was so upset. He could sense it. Her eyes were red and puffy, and he could tell that sleep had been hard to come by with the darker circles that rimmed them. Her hands were more spastic than they usually were— she was nervous, and she had taken to her bad habit of pacing again. She was probably trying her absolute best to keep the lid tightly over herself.

He wasn't sure how much longer she could last like this.

They were just beginning to close up. The last few customers were leaving, and Tadashi had started wiping down the tables a while ago. The house was getting silent again. When customers were here, the deadness was less noticeable. Now, with everyone leaving, it was slowly growing heavier and heavier on their shoulders once again. Tadashi glanced over at Aunt Cass, frowning as he realized that she was reorganizing the cash register, smoothing out the bills and arranging the quarters and dimes with extreme precision. It was the fifth time today he had caught her doing it. He opened his mouth to say something but found himself biting it back instead. He just looked down and focused on his work.

Scrubbing the table with a heavy expression, Tadashi's eyes were snagged on the window. Night was settling outside— it was getting darker earlier and earlier now. The streetlamps on the side of the walkways were switching on, and the crowds milling about were slowly thinning. He could feel the slight chill seep through the glass even from here, and the fact caused a small stroke of fright to sink through his heart. Wherever Hiro was…was he warm? Was he safe? The frazzled, panicked side of himself thought otherwise. Instead, it was bringing to light anything and everything else that was possible. What if he was hurt? What if he was lost somewhere? What if he was—?

Thankfully, Aunt Cass spoke up in just enough time to cut off Tadashi's train of thought before it could wander into those more dangerous areas. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed sharply. Her sudden yelp brought Tadashi to jerk in surprise, whirling around to look at her in alarm. His aunt was still standing at the register, but she had halted in her useless fixing— instead, she was staring straight ahead now, with an agonized look of distress. Tadashi started to ask her what could be wrong, when she went on regardless. "I forgot to plan something for dinner tonight," she grumbled, sounding frustrated. She turned and shot Tadashi a guilty look. "And we had take-out last night, too…"

Tadashi straightened, looking faintly surprised. "No, Aunt Cass— that's okay. The others offered to make dinner tonight, remember? They asked yesterday if they could. They're going to bring it over." For a heartbeat, Aunt Cass looked completely lost. It made Tadashi wonder if he had actually approached her about his friends coming over tonight. He thought he would, of course. Having four other kids come over right now without mentioning it to his aunt would be borderline evil. But no, he did remember— he remembered how his friends had reacted to the news of his brother's disappearance, and he had remembered how Aunt Cass had reassured him multiple times that a small get-together would be just fine before Tadashi told the others they could come.

To his relief, Cass' eyes cleared quickly. "Oh, that's right!" she after a brief mental lapse. She leaned back into her hips, letting out a loose sigh as she rubbed her forehead wearily. "I'm sorry, honey," she said in an exhale, her shoulders slouching. Tadashi perked, completely forgetting his work by now. "I'm just so…I'm so _frazzled_. I've really dropped the ball recently, haven't I?"

She offered him a weak smile, but Tadashi was already weaving through the tables to where she was standing. He stopped on the other side of the counter, looking anxious at the expression his guardian was now wearing. "No— no, no, don't worry, Aunt Cass!" he assured. "You shouldn't feel bad. It's been…" He trailed off, pausing for a moment to try and find the right words. He wasn't sure what the best word was for something like this; there were too many to choose from. He settled on the easiest one to get out— the one that, unfortunately, didn't do the situation that much justice. "It's been hard."

Cass blinked, chewing down on her bottom lip with a nervous expression. She glanced down at her hands, which were wringing together on top of the counter in an apprehensive manner. She nodded for a few moments, as if she was unable to do anything else. Eventually she cleared her throat, the effort doing nothing in the end as her voice came out tight and congested anyway. "Yeah," she agreed softly. She nodded again, her voice choked as she murmured: "Yeah, it has." She hesitated, Tadashi watching her with a mournful stare. After a pause she turned and looked over at her nephew. She grinned, leaning over and patting his hand lovingly. "I love you very much. You know that, right?" Her voice was tinny and weak, despite the force she tried to put behind it.

Tadashi grinned gently, ignoring the tearing in his chest. "Of course! How could I forget?"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"So, how are you getting along, then?" Honey Lemon's voice was soft, as if she wasn't really sure that she should be so blunt with the question. Tadashi perked, turning and glancing back at her over his shoulder. Dinner had ended only a few short minutes ago. Wasabi and Honey Lemon had joined together to whip up something that was actually delicious. They couldn't rival Aunt Cass' home cooking, of course, but they had come close. Now they were in the middle of picking up after themselves. Dinner had been the first lighthearted scene that had been in the house since Hiro had been found to be gone. Now Aunt Cass had retired to the phone, calling the police station again to see if there was any news. The others had reassured her that they would do all the cleaning.

At first he wasn't sure what to say. There was a lot possible, but he wasn't sure which one to pick. It was like looking at a chess board and deciding what move would be the best when you had twenty available. He gave a small cough in the back of his throat, turning and continuing to scrub at one of the plates. Honey Lemon was standing at his side, waiting for him to be finished so that she could start drying. "It's…I mean, we're fine," he mumbled, the girl frowning a little doubtfully at his tone. "It's just been….different, you know?"

Gogo was gathering up the silverware. Her eyebrows were pulled together as she turned to walk back towards the sink. "So you know absolutely nothing?" she asked. "He isn't hiding out in one of his other spots?" None of Tadashi's friends have actually met and spoken to Hiro in-depth for a long amount of time. It was well-known between them that Tadashi's brother was an introvert if there ever was one. But they had listened to too many stories about him to count; they knew all too well how mischievous the boy could be. "He hasn't been seen?"

Tadashi sighed. He shrugged one shoulder and continued to wipe down the dirty dish. "No, not at all," he said, his voice heavy. "I searched all of his hiding spots— more than once, actually. I haven't even gotten a clue to where he went. I thought that he might have taken all the money he'd won from bot fighting to go someplace. …I don't really think I would know the _reason_ …but…" He trailed off, thinking for a second. Then he just shook his head as a bit more sorrow crawled over his expression. "He didn't do anything like that either, though. All of his money was still in his drawer. Not a cent was missing. And I would know."

Nobody spoke for a while. Fred was sitting over on the far edge of the counter, sipping a soda as he listened to the flow of conversation. He was swinging his legs back and forth a little carelessly, though his expression was anything but. He tilted his head to the side, frowning as he proposed the question that nobody else was quite brave enough to ask. "So…what do you think happened?" he asked. "You think…?"

The clattering of dishes stopped abruptly as Tadashi went stock-still. His muscles went taut underneath his skin, and his expression went completely blank as he stared straight ahead. Honey Lemon had finally got her first plate to start drying, but her work was cut short as she froze too. She winced lightly at the look that had creeped over Tadashi's face, nervousness sparking off of her like fireworks. Gogo shot a glare over in Fred's direction, puffing out her cheeks slightly at the sheer stupidity of asking such a dumb question. Did he even _have_ a filter?

Thankfully Wasabi chose this moment to intervene. Having taken the job of wiping down the table, he'd been silent up until this point. He walked over, throwing away the dirty paper towel as he kept his voice neutral. "It's too soon to know," he said, Tadashi still holding tight to the plate in his hands. "I'm sure that it'll be alright. Hiro's a scatterbrained kid. He'll show up soon; there's no doubt about that, right?" He looked over at Tadashi, his face falling at the sight of his still-frozen friend. He leaned over and elbowed him gently, rousing him as if out of a dream. "Hey, did you hear me?" he asked. When Tadashi looked over at him, he gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "He'll be perfectly fine. Don't worry."

Gogo coined in. "He'll be fine until you cuff him over the head for worrying everyone the way he has," she teased, pulling a grin over her face as well. "He'll certainly get an earful when he gets home, if we know our lovely lecturer."

Tadashi still seemed vexed. But he tried to grin, scoffing as he looked away. "I don't _lecture_."

Honey Lemon giggled. "Of course not."

He was about to say something more, trying to jar himself out of the mental strain that Fred's question had put him in. He could tell from the expression his friend wore that he was more than remorseful. He offered him a smile, trying to help him feel better. He would be lying if he said that the very question – along with the very fear – had not crossed his mind about five times already. It was just that when he was faced with it, it had just turned out to be so alarming. Before he could say anything more, though, Aunt Cass came back into the room. She was still holding the phone, and her expression was terse.

The kitchen activity came to a halt again. All eyes went over to the guardian, a sense of nervous anticipation hanging over them like a blanket, just as soon as they had been able to throw off their other one. Tadashi spun around to face his aunt, his eyes crowding with anxiety at the look on her face. Hesitantly, he asked: "Is it…did they hear anything else?"

Aunt Cass shifted uneasily, rubbing her arm in a sense of discomfort. She looked down at the ground, her expression worn down and exhausted. Sorrowfully, she shook her head, her face crumpling in on itself she reached up to press the heels of her hands against her eyes. Tadashi stiffened, his eyes flying wide as he rushed over. The others watched with expressions of sorrow as Tadashi wrapped his arms around his aunt tightly. She clung back in response, a small sniff coming up from where her head was buried in her nephew's shoulder. Weakly, she asked: "Where could he _be_?"

Tadashi shook his head. "I don't know," he murmured.

Honey Lemon wrung her hands together, stepping forward a little bit from the sink. "I'm sure he'll be back," she said gently. Aunt Cass was roused by this, pulling away from her nephew as she remembered the others' presences. Honey Lemon tried her best to support them. "He'll turn up soon, I know he will. You shouldn't worry."

Gogo tried her hand as well. "He's probably just making trouble. He'll turn up— no question."

Wasabi chipped in. "He's a smart kid. He'll know how to handle himself."

Fred hopped down from the counter and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Any tough situation and he'll just think his way out. He's got those fancy Hamada brother skills, you know? Takes after the old guy." He winked over at Tadashi, who flashed him a grateful look.

Aunt Cass still looked unnerved, but she flushed affectionately at the stream of support that was immediately spouted. She smiled a few heartbeats more, and shook her head. "…Thank you," she murmured, reaching up and tucking a lock of flyaway hair behind her ear. "It…means a lot. I know he's a smart little guy." She paused, gnawing on her bottom lip again. After about ten seconds of contemplation, she grinned, recovering and straightening significantly. "I just hope that he'll be back soon."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It was dark again. At some point Hiro must have fallen asleep, exhausted from his fitful night before and his complete lack of food. The first thing he even registered was the aching in his stomach— he almost felt like he was wasting away. Hiro had never really had 'stellar' eating habits before, but they were never as awful as this was. He felt like his stomach was getting ready to eat itself, and from the moment he opened his eyes, he could still feel exhaustion like a fifty pound weight on him. A groan sounded in the back of his throat. Hoping for at least _some_ bit of good news, Hiro attempted to move his leg to see if it was getting any better. But as soon as he was met with searing pain in response, he stopped abruptly. It was no use.

He felt sick. Still laying awkwardly on his side thanks to the way his hands were tied, Hiro entertained the idea of just going back to sleep. Not only would he be able to avoid drowning in this sensation, but he could also make sure that he wouldn't have to see Callaghan again. The fear that arrived with just his name was enough to raise alarm in the boy— not only for the question of what could happen, but for the sheer fact that already Hiro was so horrified of this person. How long had it been? How many times had they actually come into contact with one another so far? And how many was left before….before…?

"You're awake!" Hiro froze as soon as the voice hit his eardrums. His eyes widened, and any tiredness he may have felt was instantly vaporized underneath the rush of panic that thrilled through him. He looked up blearily, seeing the outline of a figure in the doorway. Sure enough, the silver beads rattled as they stepped into the room, and before too long, Callaghan knelt down in front of him. As if sensing Hiro's difficulty in seeing through the dim lighting, Callaghan sat up a little straighter. "Here— wait just one moment."

He stood and went over to the corner, where a floor lamp was nestled away. He flicked its switch and caused harsh light to fill the room, Hiro curling away from the glare with a slight hiss. He blinked rapidly, already feeling his headache start to ebb back into existence. Callaghan kept the light on and waltzed back over to where Hiro was on the ground, his expression nearly as bright and intrusive as the lamp was. "Hey there!" he chirped, his voice oozing over with affection. "I'm sorry I couldn't get back sooner— you've no idea how long the faculty can groan on." Hiro grimaced, trying to give a subtle tug against the rope. But it seemed to be just as tight as it was before he had fallen asleep. Callaghan smiled at the sight. "You seem to be half-asleep still! Here— allow me to get that off."

Hiro tensed as Robert leaned over him, but it was only to strip away the duct tape. Predictably, it stung and caused water to spring up into the boy's eyes. But Hiro was grateful for its release anyway, taking in a deep gasp once the gag was torn away. Callaghan harbored a tender expression as he looked down at Hiro, and he reached over again to tousle his hair. Hiro seethed inwardly at the contact, but was not brave enough to jerk away. In effect, Callaghan's voice was overly-gentle as he asked: "Hiro, are you hungry? I've just finished dinner— I was hoping you would like some."

He kept his mouth closed, curling his better leg up closer to his chest. He bit down on his lower lip, trying his best to avoid eye contact. Callaghan raised his eyebrows, looking concerned. As if trying to tantalize him, he ventured on to say: "I cooked some spaghetti." It didn't do much, to everyone's extreme shock and astonishment. Hiro didn't like spaghetti anyway— it always tasted too bland. Every time that Aunt Cass had made it back home, Hiro had complained and whined. She stopped after her second try.

Thinking about such things caused Hiro's stomach to heave, and he quickly shoved it aside before it could start to fester.

"Would you like to sit down with me at the dinner table?" Callaghan asked, his voice soft with the offer. Hiro perked at this, but just slightly, in a way that did not allow the man across from him to notice. "I was worried that you might try something and act out, so I wasn't too sure. But then I told myself that we need to form some trust in between us, right?" He waited for Hiro to reply, but the boy did not. Regardless, he continued. "If I don't let you prove yourself, then what will we have?"

He did wait for a reply this time.

Hiro still refused to look at him. But after a second or two he whispered: "I don't know."

This seemed to be the correct response. Callaghan nodded and offered him yet another smile. "So I decided to let you come with me." Hiro turned, watching with a cautious air as Callaghan leaned over to untie his hands from the bedpost. It took a few moments in order to wrangle the rope away from Hiro's skin, but eventually that harsh, biting pressure was alleviated. He let out a sigh as the force was removed, but he didn't have a lot of time to relish the feeling. No sooner had the ropes fallen away did Callaghan start to gather him back up in his arms again.

Hiro's stomach clenched and he had to hold himself back from yelling to be let go. If it were up to him he would certainly shove Callaghan away and spit that he could walk just fine on his own, thank you very much. But he was smarter than that, unfortunately. He knew that he wouldn't be able to get very far before he collapsed, and putting more strain on his leg was probably unwise. If he was going to put weight on it, it would have to be for a better cause. Otherwise he wasn't sure whether or not it would just snap in half. It certainly felt that way.

So he held his tongue and let Callaghan pick him up. Yet surprisingly, he was not as bothered as he thought he would be as his captor started out towards the hall. Because his mind was focused on something else. Where was Callaghan planning on eating? Where was it in relation to the door? Hiro had resigned to avoiding putting weight on his leg if possible, but if a chance of escape presented itself to him, Hiro wouldn't hesitate for a single second. Was there a chance that he could get out of here _tonight_? The mere thought almost took his breath away.

What if he could find a way to go _home_?

Callaghan walked down to the left of the hall, and sure enough, Hiro found that they were going down a set of stairs. So he _had been_ on the upper floor of the house. Once he hit the landing, he turned to the right, apparently heading for a dining room of some sort. It didn't take Hiro long at all to notice that every single window was pulled over tight. With drapes, with shutters, the whole nine yards. Not a single one was uncovered. Most of the house was dark and hard to make out. There was a light up ahead that outlined a few generic pieces of furniture, but mostly it was too dark for Hiro to bother straining to make it out. The only thing he was worried about was a door. Could he see a door?

There! There, there, _there_! Hiro's heart leapt up into his throat as the boy caught sight of a door. It was far away— they were heading in the opposite direction. But it was there! The door wasn't too far from the stairs! It was just around the corner! It was much grander— different than any other that was in the house. That had to be it, right? There didn't seem to be a better option. Or a more logical one. As soon as his eyes landed on it, the boy jerked his eyes back front with the smallest of jumps; and at first, he was worried to death that Callaghan had noticed. He kept still, tense and nervous as he waited for something— _anything_. A yell, a blow, heck, he would anticipate Robert to flat-out drop him.

But nothing. Hiro could only guess that he didn't catch anything out of the ordinary.

Well…ordinary might not be the _best_ word…

One more turn – Hiro probably should have paid more attention to the layout – and they stepped into the light. Hiro flinched away, again, feeling a pounding insert itself behind his eyes. Having to get used to the glare just like he had in the room, he tried to ignore the waves of pain against his skull as he squinted his eyes open bit by bit.

He was met with a sight that was…surprisingly normal. The dining room's walls were a soft, light color. The table was large enough to seat six with extra space, and there were chairs there to prove it. There was no tablecloth— it was just dark wood that looked clean and untouched. There was a basket of fruit in the middle, though from where Hiro was, it looked pretty fake. There wasn't much else, either. There was a door shortly behind the table— did that lead to the kitchen? Going off of the smell that was wafting over from it – which Hiro was instantly aware of, thanks to his empty stomach – it was probably the best bet.

Callaghan walked until he was closest to one of the chairs before bending over to set Hiro down. Hiro, unprepared for the action, jerked as he was suddenly forced to hold himself up. Biting down on his lower lip, he fell forward with just enough time to grab at the edge of the table. His face creased over in pain as he tried his best to keep weight off of his leg. Callaghan pulled back one of the chairs and before Hiro could even hesitate, he collapsed into it with an agonized whimper.

Callaghan didn't even blink at the sign of pain. He just weaved around the table, turning back to give Hiro a stern look. The boy was hunched where he sat, his eyes closed tightly as he tried to combat the pain in his entire body. The back of the chair was way too straight for his bones, which were shrieking and yelping in hurt. His breathing was uneven— he sounded like he had just ran an entire marathon in two minutes. With everything else…he kind of _felt_ like it, too.

"Hiro." The request for attention was more like a silent demand. Hiro immediately cringed, but after a few more seconds of breathing, he looked up with a clinched expression. Robert's stare bore straight through him, and once again, Hiro remembered all of the ways he used to look up to this person. How many times had he wished he could meet them? Was he _sure_ that it was the same Robert Callaghan? He was so crazy…maybe he was just using the name? But then that wouldn't explain the photos… "I'm going to get the food." He sounded like he was talking to a five year old, not a teenager. "Do you think you can stay right there?"

Hiro blanched for a second. Callaghan's voice was absolutely freezing. He felt slapped across the face just by having those words reach his ears. He was silent for what seemed like forever. In reality it was probably only a few short seconds. Eventually his thought was broken as he shifted, causing yet another stab to sink into his back. He ducked away and, before he could stop himself, his voice came out in a high squeak: "Yes."

Callaghan nodded. He seemed relieved, though when Hiro looked back up, he could plainly see the distrust that lingered like a shadow as well. And why wouldn't he have a few misgivings? This was entirely stupid. Why in the world would he allow such an opportunity as this? Hiro's heart was beating so loudly that he was surprised Callaghan couldn't hear it. It was hurting his chest, how hard it was hammering. He had to get out of here. How many other opportunities would he have to be this close to a way out? Up until now he had been fenced inside that room. For, – if he was correct – going on days now. What if Callaghan just stuck him up there for longer after this? Could he make it down those stairs himself?

Not as easily as he could stagger to the door from where he was now.

Callaghan turned and walked through the swinging door, Hiro whining softly in the back of his throat at the smell that wafted over to him in turn. He didn't like spaghetti— not entirely. But right now, when he couldn't even remember the last time he had eaten, it smelled like the best thing in the entire world. Feeling a sinking sensation in his stomach, Hiro twisted in the chair slowly, choking on the pain that ensued from the shift. Breathing heavily through the pain, Hiro narrowed his eyes, just barely able to see the door from where he was sitting. It was tucked away at the end of the hall around the corner. But he could faintly see its very edge.

That was his target.

He needed to get all the way there. Somehow.

He sat back, cautiously beginning to grab hold of the table to help hoist himself up. But as soon as he braced himself, he heard the door begin to creak back open. He fell back and looked up with a twinge of fear, wondering if he had been caught. But Callaghan's back was to him, as he had to walk against the door to push it open. He turned around by the time Hiro sat back down, a grin on his face and a plate of pasta in each hand. Hiro blinked, rubbing his arms as a tightness started in his chest. Robert placed a plate in front of him and took the seat opposite, putting down one for himself as well. He sat down, still grinning a mile a minute. Hiro did nothing at first, just looking down at the plate with a numb expression. Callaghan looked from the boy to his food. "Are you going to eat, Hiro?"

Hiro remained quiet. His mouth was dry.

Callaghan's gaze softened. A smile played at his mouth, and Hiro tried not to look away even more. "I didn't do anything to it, Hiro," he assured. "I just wanted to eat with you." Hiro still didn't make a move. Callaghan cleared his throat, looking down and taking a few bites of his own. "See?" he asked. "It's completely safe." All Hiro could think about was the medicine he had taken that had caused him to fall unconscious. He couldn't trust this either, could he?

From where he sat, Callaghan leaned over, scooping out a small portion of Hiro's noodles and sitting back to eat them pointedly. Hiro's eyes flickered up to watch him. Callaghan swallowed and raised his eyebrows. "See?" he repeated. "You can eat it— don't be afraid." Hiro hesitated a few seconds more, still wary and doubtful. But his hunger was too great to ignore, and he caved far too soon. He picked up the fork listlessly and started to wrap a few noodles around its end. As he did so, he noticed for the first time how scratched and worn his palms were from when he had tried to catch himself on the ground. They were bruising over now, too. Funny. He hadn't even felt it.

He ate a few mouthfuls of noodles. He wasn't sure whether it was the cooking, or this entire situation, but swallowing down the food took far more concentration than it usually did. In no time at all, his swallowing turned into gags. His stomach was churning, not thanking him at all for the nutrients. He had thought that food would help him feel better. Now, all he wanted was to shove the plate away. He wasn't even remotely hungry. He winced, putting down the fork after a measly six bites. His expression was more nauseous than anything.

Callaghan perked at the refusal. He frowned, tilting his head to the side. "Are you alright, Hiro?" he asked. Hiro didn't say anything, just staring at the plate of food with a sickened expression. Callaghan sat up a little straighter, his forehead creasing. "Hiro, what's the matter? Why don't you eat?"

Hiro glanced at him quickly, feeling his chest tighten even more as he caught Robert's expression. In his lap, his hands wrung together with a mark of apprehension. Softly, he mumbled under his breath: "I…I don't like spaghetti." It wasn't a total lie. But it didn't properly explain the bone-numbing fear and shame that was keeping him from forcing down any more food. His hands were shaking underneath the table, and all he could think about was the door that was tantalizingly close yet so far at the same time. He could _leave_. He could _get out of here_. He _could_.

Callaghan looked at him like he just said he loved to eat porcupines raw. He swallowed the information for a few moments before he replied. "Take a couple more bites." Hiro dug his fingernails into his arms, trying to remember how to breathe right. He had to make a conscious effort not to look over his shoulder to where the door was. It was harder than he thought it would be. He was so close, he was so _close_! Robert continued to speak, and Hiro went rigid, snapping back into attention. He sounded wistful now. "Abigail loved this." Hiro stiffened at the mention of the girl. Of the reason why he was here. "She used to demand it for dinner every night. It was her absolute favorite. First thing she learned how to cook." He grinned, and added as if for emphasis: "She loved spaghetti."

Hiro's reply was out of his mouth before he could possibly begin to reel it back in. Looking up from the plate, his eyes met Callaghan's straight-on for the first time. In a clear, yet quiet, voice, he said: "But I'm not Abigail."

Complete and utter silence fell the second he was finished speaking. Hiro's mouth was still halfway open, and he only shut it a few seconds later, as if it took a while for him to really realize what he'd said. His eyes widened somewhat, and his nails dug even further into his skin, etching in small crescent shapes. _Are you stupid!? What the heck did you just say!? Are you kidding me!? What is the_ matter _with you!?_ On the inside, he was screaming, but on the outside, he just looked shocked and numb.

Any other occasion, and he would be rather impressed by the defiance.

Right now he was just horrified.

Callaghan's eyes narrowed. His jaw locked backwards, and Hiro found that he could not take the silence. He would rather gouge his own ears out than sit here and listen to this…this absolute nothing. Callaghan put his fork down with a small clatter, pushing his chair back and getting up to his feet. Hiro watched, his eyes widening as he found himself instinctively jerking backwards. But to his surprise, Callaghan didn't walk towards him. He turned instead and pushed against the wooden swinging door. He went back into the kitchen. He didn't even glance back at Hiro.

At first the boy was too shocked to move. He just stared with an open mouth, looking at the door of the kitchen as if he had never seen such a thing before. But it did not take him long at all to snap out of it. Quickly, Hiro grabbed the table and yanked himself up before he could rethink. At once, he stumbled, a choked yelp of pain wrenching out of his throat. But he didn't have time to wallow or feel bad for himself. He just bit down hard on his lower lip and turned, attempting to make it to the door as fast as he possibly could. It was near the stairs— the problem wouldn't lie in finding his way back to it. He knew exactly where it was. He just didn't know how he was supposed to get there before Callaghan came back.

His leg was ablaze— he could almost feel his bone bending and crying out in pain. The knife that had been stabbed into the small of his back was being twisted sharply now. He held his breath to keep from screaming, throwing a look over his shoulder to the kitchen door. But it was still shut. Whatever he was doing, he hadn't noticed Hiro move yet. He was making slow progress towards the door, each step making the pain crease deeper and deeper into his face. He felt like he was more or less hopping towards the door; without the sheer amount of adrenaline that was rushing through him, he was sure that the pain would be too much for him to cope with.

He was close to the door now. Less than two feet away, Hiro collapsed, his bag leg running into his good one and causing him to slam down to the floor. The commotion was enough to make his flinch, but for a second or two he was completely paralyzed in the pain that was brought upon by the trip. He was biting his lip so hard, it was bleeding now— he could taste the metallic tang. He pushed himself up again, an agony-filled sob working its way from his mouth as his back screamed along with his leg. He could hardly move without the sensation. But he still floundered, getting back up and staggering to the door.

The door had a small window so that someone see outside. Hiro's heart tore as he realized that he could see the street in front of the house. A car was passing by even— if he ran out there quickly, he could flag down help! He could do this! He could get out of here! His heart was ramming against his ribcage so hard he thought it might burst clear out of his chest at the concept. His scratched hands fumbled at the doorknob, wrapping his fingers around the thing clumsily as he tugged and pulled. One eye closed, and he yelped underneath his breath as he struggled to rip it back. Confusion mixed with panic at the lack of progress, and Hiro heaved for air, struggling to keep himself from crying out.

Was it locked?

He pulled and tugged, beginning to hyperventilate as the thing refused to budge.

Nothing.

Breaking, Hiro resorted to throwing himself against the door. He pounded his whole body against it, sucking in a sharp breath of air and raising his voice into a scream. " _Help_!" he screeched, his voice grating sharply against his throat. " _Help me! Help me, plea_ —" Something collided against the back of his head. His vision exploded in white, and he fell away from the door, stumbling to the side as he ducked down to hold his head. He didn't even register the pain in his back as he bent over; he couldn't sense anything past the torture that was now stabbing through his skull. When his vision cleared with white, it ensued to spot over in black, and Hiro was left to sit on the floor to keep from keeling over.

His bad leg splayed out awkwardly as he sat, but it was the least of his concerns. His head was pounding; all he could do was stop and wait for his vision to clear up and become less spotty. Gradually it did so, but as soon as he lowered his arms and started to straighten, he felt a shoe collide with his back. This did it— Hiro was kicked straight to the ground, the boy letting out a high-pitched scream into the crook of his elbow. Laying on his side, Hiro's body went into a spasm. His head spun, and his back felt like it was coming apart. He couldn't even move, it was too painful. Words couldn't describe the agony— he had never felt anything as bad as this before.

Hazily, he looked up at Callaghan, who was standing over him with a cold expression. Hiro was trembling from head to toe. He couldn't speak clearly— the only noise he could get out was suppressed ones of pain and fear. His stare was groggy and unfocused. The world seemed to spin around him, even though he was limp on the ground. Callaghan settled down to crouch in front of Hiro, his eyes like two frozen chips as he looked down. His voice was just as cold as he spoke quietly. "What are you doing, Hiro? This isn't how it's supposed to be."

Hiro was still hyperventilating. His voice was nothing more than a shaky whimper as he replied. "Please…please just let me go home." He waited for a response of any sort, but he was given none. Callaghan was like a statue as he looked down at him. He was completely motionless. Flinching deeply at the newfound prickling in his back, he tried again. "I won't tell anyone." He was almost sobbing by this point. "I promise, I swear, I won't tell a single person if you just let me go right now."

Still nothing.

Hiro shut his eyes tightly, ducking his head. "You gotta let me go, please. Please just think about what you're doing just for a second, please— I can't stay here, you can't keep me here." He still didn't reply, and Hiro was slowly beginning to hope that maybe he was getting through to them. Talking was all he could do from here with the way he was; he could barely move, let alone get up. All he could try to do was persuade him. But would it be worth it? "I'm not Abigail! I'm Hiro! You've got to—"

"Stop it," Callaghan ordered sharply, starting to grow angry.

Panic was helping to blur his vision. Hiro grimaced as pain wrapped around his cranium, but he struggled on. "No, no! You have to listen to me! You can't—"

Callaghan stood up abruptly. Hiro didn't have the time to take anything back before his captor's leg reared back, only to shoot forward again. He landed a solid kick right into the middle of Hiro's stomach. Upon contact, every single ounce of air that was in his lungs was forced out entirely. His eyes grew to be ten times their normal size, and he was left to gape like a fish that had been jerked out of the water. Pain was alive in every crevice of his face, but absolutely no sound could manage to leak from his jaws. His mouth was just open in a silent screech. No sound could be emitted.

Callaghan did not pause for very long before dealing another blow in the exact same place. All that came from Hiro after the second kick was a dull wheezing noise. His head spun at the lack of oxygen— he was suffocating. He couldn't move, he couldn't even speak. He was more than groggy and incapacitated; he couldn't even tell which way was up and which way was down. Seeing this, Callaghan knelt back down. In Hiro's blurred vision, he could hardly make out the stern look that was now on him.

Not taking his eyes away from Hiro, Callaghan reached back towards his far pocket. He withdrew something that, at first, Hiro couldn't even begin to make out. At first he assumed that it was just duct tape, or rope again. Something to tie him back or keep him subdued.

But he realized a little too late that he would rather have taken either of those things in comparison to what it really was.

Callaghan pressed the barrel of the gun against Hiro's head, ignoring the boy's instant recoil of pain. His expression was calm and collected, however it was clear by his voice that his motives were anything but. "I don't want to go to these lengths, Hiro. But if you push me, I certainly will," he growled, the boy flinching as more weight was applied against his head. It felt like it was going to split open any second. Getting his breath back bit by slow bit, the boy tried to breathe out an unsteady objection, but it was no use. Callaghan went on just the same. "We cannot _be_ a happy family if you continue to do this, Hiro. And I will have absolutely no choice."

Hiro's eyes focused on the gun, and a sense of cold dread sunk through to his stomach. He could do nothing but stare in a haze of fright. Under the gaze of the gun, he was rendered motionless. But, really, he could not move even if he wanted to. Acutely aware of the fact that he had the boy's full attention at the moment, Callaghan took his time to put together what he would say next. His voice was slow and calculating as he leaned a little bit closer to his victim. "I'll tell you what, Hiro," he mused. "You had a pretty nice family before this. Nothing like _we_ will be, but they were fair enough, wouldn't you agree?"

Hiro didn't reply. His lower lip began to tremble violently. His already-foggy vision blurred over.

Callaghan seemed to favor such a reaction. He went on smoothly. "Your aunt— she owns that cute little bakery shop, doesn't she? The one right underneath her house? What is that one called again?" He pretended to think for a moment. "The Lucky Cat Café! That's right!" Hiro closed his eyes, ducking his head as if to try and hide from the point that he could already see Callaghan getting to. "I've never really been there to sit down and eat, but I've heard good things. I could always visit now. I know _exactly_ where it is." His voice was dripping with malice by now.

Hiro didn't react. He was mimicking a turtle— hiding away in the hopes not to be seen.

Callaghan leaned down even closer. "Doesn't that sound like a good idea, Hiro? To visit them?"

Meekly, he shook his head. "No, please don't…please don't hurt them…"

Callaghan dug the gun in harder, the boy letting out another sob at the dig into his scalp. Next, Callaghan spat his words through gritted teeth. "Then I would suggest that you stop acting out," he snarled, his voice low and scathing. Hiro squeezed his eyes shut tighter, wanting nothing more than to sink through the floor and disappear. He hurt, he hurt so _much_. He wanted Aunt Cass. He wanted Tadashi. He didn't want this. He wanted to go home. The gun dug in harder, and Hiro was fighting to keep his voice restrained to quiet gasps and sobs. "If you don't cooperate, Hiro, then I'll have no choice but to use this. _All_ I want is to be a happy family, and we're going to do that. _You_ and _me_. Do you understand?" Each word was laced with poison and spat down at him. "If you don't comply, I might just go down and see your little café. I don't think I have to make it any more clear on what will happen if I do, though."

Hiro's throat swelled completely shut. He kept his face hidden, his expression crumbled in on itself as he struggled to hold himself together. Tears were rushing down his face, and once again, he remembered what Tadashi had used to tell him. But in doing so, it was just brought to his mind what his brother would look like with a hole in his head. Or what Aunt Cass would look like covered in blood. And for a moment, he thought that he was going to be a sick a second time.

Callaghan stood, leaning down and grabbing Hiro up by the arm. The boy didn't dare make any noise at this, resorting back to biting down on his lip to hold back any sound. Abruptly, Callaghan turned and started up the steps, half-dragging Hiro behind him. The boy was forced to try and keep up on unsteady legs. His head was still pounding, which made coordination even worse. His vision was still slightly askew— he blinked rapidly in the attempt to try and fix it. But mostly he was just left to try and hold back any screeches of pain as a product of his leg, as he was forced to use it.

Eventually, it got to be too much. A little less than three-quarters of the way up the steps, Hiro couldn't keep his legs moving. It hurt too much, and he was forced to go slack. If Hiro didn't know any better, he would have thought that Callaghan didn't even notice; the man switched easily into purely dragging Hiro down the hall. It put tremendous strain on his arm, but the agony was much less than what he had experienced with his leg. The boy hung his head, trying to stifle any noise he made, too frightened to let loose even the smallest of sniffs. The house was silent now. Completely silent.

Callaghan dragged Hiro by one arm all the way back to the room from before. Swiping aside the clattering beads at the entrance, Callaghan turned and grabbed Hiro's other arm, twisting around and literally throwing him at the foot of the bed. Hiro landed face-down with a pathetic noise— one that would cause any like-minded person to immediately break apart in sympathy and concern. Callaghan, on the other hand, did not react in the slightest. He just knelt down, grabbing Hiro's wrists and yanking them back much too harshly so that they were locked behind him.

Picking up the rope, he tied them back in their place around the post. This time, it was even tighter than it had been before. Tying the knot in place and making sure that there was no getting out of it, Callaghan stooped down and forced Hiro into a sitting position, every movement he made coming out sharp and much too rough. Hiro flinched and cringed, crying softly as he could not hold back all of his sobs. Still, the other was not moved in the slightest. He just turned, his expression blank as he got another strand of tape to slap over Hiro's mouth.

Hiro did not try to fight back or object like any other time. But as soon as the tape was in place, the boy hung his head, his shoulders heaving violently as he cried into the gag. The presence of the gun was still hanging over them like a cloud. Callaghan did not mistake the fact as he raised it again to show Hiro one last time. Hiro had never seen an expression that could be so blank, but so angry and threatening at the same time. His voice was cold and frigid. "I… _really_ …would rather not use this," he said, speaking very, very slowly. Hiro stared at him with wide eyes, still shaking as tears ran down either sides of his face. "But…if you just leave me no choice…"

He let the gun rest momentarily to face towards Hiro. The boy stiffened visibly at the aim. Callaghan shook his head almost mournfully. "I know this can work. I _know_ it can. I wouldn't have done it if I didn't think so. Why would I?" Hiro stared, wrapped in fear and apprehension. Callaghan's voice dropped and his eyes narrowed into slits as he rooted Hiro immobile underneath his glare. "And believe me, Hiro. I will do _all_ that is in my power...to _make_ it work."

Hiro swallowed thickly. He only stared. Though the fear in his eyes multiplied and grew substantially. Callaghan had been waiting to see this, and when he did, he seemed to grow satisfied. He gave a single nod, pulling away and standing up. He turned and went into the far corner to the lamp, switching it off with a click. The room was plunged into darkness. Hiro continued to stare straight ahead, not seeing anything at all. He was shell-shocked.

Callaghan went to the door. He started to leave, when he stopped halfway over the threshold. He turned and looked back. Hiro was beginning to crumble— even where he stood a few feet away, Callaghan could see that his shaking was getting more and more violent. His shoulders jerked up and down, and his breathing was picking up in noisy rasps. Softly, the older man called back: "Let's make sure you don't forget again, Hiro. For their sake."

He turned and left.

The door slammed shut.

Hiro ducked his head, trying to thrash against the ropes holding him back as he let out a heartbreaking scream.

The ropes stayed in place. They didn't move a single inch.

And his voice couldn't even be heard. Not through the tape.

He was stuck.

He was stuck…absolutely stuck…

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: **And all the kids cried out: "Please stop, you're scaring me!"**

 **I can't help this awful energy.**

 **Goddamn right, you should be scared of me.**

 **Who is in control?**

Control – Halsey

I might fix the end. It's whateverrrrr. This chapter was significantly longer, so I'd love to hear what your thoughts! Please excuse any typos too. It's almost midnight and I start Finals tomorrow. If you see any glaring ones before I edit it, I would certainly love to go back and fix it, along with anything else you might see that I could possibly fix? And I hope the (shorter!) wait was worth it! Anyway, I am super pumped to write more, so as soon as I get around ten reviews like last time, I'll certainly update! I've got so much planned you've got no idea. Can't wait to put them in action. ;D

Happy Finals-Are-Over, Emily! You're the Queen of Acing Tests! Happy wishes along to anyone else who made it through! They suck. Pray for me. That is all.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the feedback! I love how much I'm getting— it really makes me super pumped to update! XP

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Monday. It was a Monday. The day when the week would begin. When he would need to finalize his lesson plans for the week, make sure that he would have all of his weekend work completed, and when he would have to start making sure that he had back-up plans for dinner just in case a student would request to stay after school for help. Usually it was a dreary cycle. He would get up, take a shower, get dressed, have some breakfast, brace himself for what the day could possibly bring, and then step out the door. He never really paid much attention. He moved as if he were on auto-piolet, like every working person did before the week officially began.

However, this Monday was slightly different. It posed a threat. In many ways. The thought occurred to him as soon as he had woken up. This was the first day in which he would leave the house for more than a few hours at a time. He would not be able to even rush back here to check on things. To make sure that…

He got up normally— 6:00 a.m. sharp. He didn't waste any time before going through his normal routine. He brushed his teeth and took a shower in less than ten minutes. He went to the kitchen and poured himself a bowl of cereal, choosing to eat it at the counter rather than at the table. All the while as he ate, he kept an ear out for any sound whatsoever. But the house was completely silent. There wasn't a single noise to alert him of anything amiss.

By 6:20 he was ready to go. His bag was packed and ready, containing his laptop and his notes and planned lectures that he would need for the upcoming few days. He was as organized as ever. However, while he would normally be straight out the door, he hesitated. He was lingering close to the entryway, his bag in hand as he hesitated over the threshold. Again, he tilted his head to hear any kind of telltale sound. And again, he came up short. He looked from the door, to the stairs. Stopping now would risk being later to school than he normally was. But the silence unnerved him for the moment. The memory of last night was still prominent in his mind. What if…?

Callaghan caved. He turned and put his bag down on the floor, turning and weaving over to the stairds. He scaled them quickly, his steps much more rushed now in comparison to what they had been before. He was up in no time, and at Hiro's door in even less. Without a single hesitation, he leaned over, twisting the doorknob and letting himself inside the bedroom. He walked through the beads that were hanging in the doorway, their clatter slicing directly through the tranquil silence that had previously been resting over the house.

He went over to the corner of the room to where the floor lamp was, leaning over and switching it on. Light flooded the room, and he turned to look where he had left Hiro. He didn't know what he was preparing to see. Unsettled by the silence, for he hadn't even head the smallest of floorboard creaks, his frazzled mind had drafted up the image of undone ropes or an empty floor.

He was filled with a sense of relief at the sight of the boy still as he had left him.

Hiro was still tied to the far left bedpost by his wrists. He was splayed on his side, his head drooped low to his chest as his stomach gently rose up and down with each breath. His hair was unkempt and messy— it spiked out every which way and managed to cover his face at the same time. Callaghan could see how his back was arched awkwardly, even as he was asleep; his leg was limp in an odd direction too. He could not take Hiro to the doctor for such injuries for obvious reasons, however Callaghan knew in the back of his mind that he would have to help with the ailments sooner or later. Otherwise they would just get worse.

Going over to Hiro's sleeping form hunched on the ground, he crouched low to his level. The older man leaned forward, reaching over to brush Hiro's hair away from his face. Asleep, he looked so peaceful. The sight brought a tender smile to Callaghan's face, and he recalled all the times that he had carried Abigail in from the car after she fell asleep— or how many times she had fallen asleep on him watching movies on the couch. Hiro was so much like her. Pretty soon, Callaghan would be able to have everything again. Everything he had with Abigail, he could have with Hiro. Things would look up— it would be entirely perfect.

He could see it clearly.

All that was left was to wait for Hiro to come to the same conclusion.

And that would happen, he was sure of it.

The boy was not roused by the light, or Callaghan's touch. He seemed to be deeply asleep, as even the clatter of the beads from before hadn't caused his eyes to open. Callaghan continued to brush his fingers through the boy's hair, enjoying the simplicity of being able to touch him without complaint or yell. He was so caught up in his joy over being able to do such a thing, that he hadn't even noticed when five whole minutes ticked by. He was just so enraptured – at the boy's expression, at everything that was in front of them – he couldn't focus on anything else.

Eventually, Hiro seemed to finally be able to feel that he was being touched. His forehead creased slowly, his eyes opening into thin slits. Callaghan saw that he immediately cringed away from the light, as if it caused him physical harm. "Shhh," Callaghan soothed immediately, his voice gentle. Hiro screwed his eyes shut tightly, his good leg curling into his chest as a small whine escaped from the back of his throat. He moved his head awkwardly, as if he was trying to get it away from Callaghan, but realized halfway through the effort that he didn't have enough strength for it. Disregarding the motion, Callaghan only smiled lovingly. "Don't worry. You can go back to sleep in a moment or two. I just came to say goodbye to you. And to tell you that I'll miss you while I'm gone."

Hiro could not reply— the duct tape was still clamped tightly over his mouth, preventing him to do anything of the sort. All he could do was make another noise; a more plaintive one. The child looked groggy and unfocused— Callaghan wondered whether or not he was feeling a little sick. Moving so that he could press his hand to Hiro's forehead, he noted with a small twinge of dread that the boy felt much hotter than normal. As if realizing the same thing, Hiro whined softly as he flinched again.

For a heartbeat, Callaghan was caught up in concern. His mind went to the solution he usually drew whenever Abigail had gotten sick. He had to take off of work and spend all his energy helping him to get better. He would let him sleep in and wake him up around eleven or twelve with some steaming hot chicken noodle soup. He would give him a blanket and maybe pop in some old movie and check his temperature every other hour. That was how it always was with Abigail.

But, in this situation, he reacted in a different manner. He couldn't take off work— what if someone looked between the two of them and realized that there was a connection? He couldn't take off work so soon after Hiro had 'disappeared.' And besides— this could be seen as a form of punishment at the same time. "I suppose you should have had more to eat last night instead of acting out," Callaghan reasoned after a few moments of contemplation. Hiro made another sorrowful noise, but Callaghan was not very willing to be swayed by such. It wasn't an option, really. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay like this for today. I've got to go to work."

The soft moment over and done with, Callaghan pulled away from Hiro, only tightening the ropes around his wrists before standing. Hiro's eyes were open fully now. Besides the desperate despair in their depths, Callaghan also realized that they were feverishly bright. He almost decided to get a thermometer just to check, but he shot that down as well. It was nearly 6:35 by now. He had to get going to school before his first class began. He couldn't have people wondering about him. Who knows where a simple wondering could potentially lead someone.

He turned away from Hiro and started down for the steps. Hiro cried softly from the ground, floundering as he tried to call back for Callaghan. He whined and pleaded incoherently from behind the gag, ineffective against Callaghan's indifference. The man left, ignoring the boy's groggy pleads for help. Hiro had brought this upon himself, after all. Callaghan had work to go to; he simply just didn't have the time to stop and care for him. He would care for Hiro as soon as he learned the place that he would have here. Until then, it was left to be determined.

He made quick work in going down the steps and going outside. He relocked the door behind him before turning to make for his car. He really was wasting a lot of time; he was usually well on his way to school by now. He could only hope that nobody noticed his delay. Getting his car keys ready, he started to let himself into the vehicle when he was stopped for the millionth time. "Oh, Robert! Robert, I'm glad I caught you!"

He stilled, staring straight ahead for a few moments, as if unsure of whether or not he had heard correctly. But sure enough, when he turned to look over his shoulder, he saw that in the yard to the right of his own, stood his neighbor. Mrs. Shelts— he remembered her name. She stood in her own driveway, still wearing her nightgown. Her grayed hair was pulled up in a cap, and despite the only halfway-chilled weather, she was shivering inside a thick coat. She peered over at him curiously through half-moon glasses, and pursed her lips in concern. "Are you alright, Robert?" she asked.

Mrs. Shelts had moved in beside this house years and years ago. Callaghan wasn't very sociable anymore, thanks to Abigail's death. But prior to his daughter's passing, he and the elderly woman had gotten along quite well. They made small talk often, and even made dinners and desserts for one another, especially during the holidays. They weren't very close friends— he wouldn't be able to report anything about her like what her favorite color was, or what her nickname was as a child. But they had been cordial. Now, not so much.

Drawing himself out of his thoughts, Callaghan offered her a polite smile. "I'm well, Mrs. Shelts. Is there any reason why you ask?"

Mrs. Shelts seemed dubious. Though she smiled in relief at the reply that was given. "Ah— I see." There was an awkward pause, in which the older woman just stared over at him, and he returned the gaze. Neither spoke, because neither was sure exactly what words would suffice. Eventually, Mrs. Shelts cleared her throat. "I only ask because…well, because I heard some sounds last night that seemed out of the ordinary." Callaghan tensed at this, but Mrs. Shelts was too far away to notice. It helped that her eyesight was awful, too. "It sounded like yelling, though I couldn't be sure. I was tempted to come and ask last night, but I didn't want to be a bother." She hesitated and then added: "Not to mention I knew that you would be out this morning for me to ask." Reluctantly, she pressed: "Is everything alright, Robert?"

There was a period of silence. Callaghan stood still, just staring at her. His car door was still open, frozen mid-swing. For a heartbeat or more, he was too surprised to even think of what he could say in reply. He was grasping for something, but it always remained out of reach. How much did she hear? Was she suspicious? Had she heard news of Hiro's disappearance? Was it even making news by now? For the briefest of moments, his mouth ran dry. He was too caught-up in panicked thoughts to say anything.

But then he snapped himself out of it. There was no reason for him to feel anything other than complete calm. Of course she didn't know anything— she was a batty old woman. She wouldn't know a situation if it laid down in front of her, tied in a bow. He recovered himself and offered her a smile. "Of course. Everything's perfect." He cleared his throat and went on. "You see, my nephew is visiting— my sister has a business trip, so she's going to be travelling for quite some time." He didn't even have a sister. Finite details. Trivial. "He had a friend over last night and they were just…running around together yelling. Some— some Cop and Robber game." He offered a laugh, and Mrs. Shelts did soon after. "I tried to tell them to quiet down, but you know how young boys are." For good emphasis, he asked: "I hope they didn't bother you, Mrs. Shelts?"

The old woman reacted as predicted. A hand went up to clasp at her chest, and she shook her head with a bubbly giggle. "Oh no— not at all. I was just worried that something might have been amiss. Don't mind me. I'm just…being silly I suppose!" She gave a giggle, continuing to speak, as those she couldn't see how ready he was to leave. "I have a granddaughter, but she isn't nearly as rambunctious! Such a quiet little girl. She reads mostly, you see. Though I think last time she came over, she mentioned that she would like to start writing soon. Can you believe that? _Writing_? It's hard for me to see, as she's still such a little girl. I can't remember many things, but I remember when she was first learning to spell. Now all of a sudden she's off to the races with a pen and paper. I sent her a letter asking about it, since I think that I would very much like to read what she's putting such effort into. But she hasn't replied yet. You know how kids are today— it's all emails and little texts. Nobody just has the _time_ anymore to stop and write to Grandma, do they? I remember back when…"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He got to school a mere ten minutes before his first class started. Usually he arrived with enough time to loiter in his classroom, just in case someone were to come in for extra help. To his relief, there wasn't a student waiting there for him, armed with impatience and confusion at his absence. It was still empty; the moment he withdrew his laptop from his satchel and sat down at his desk, the first few kids started to file in for their early-morning class. Exhaustion and irritation seemed to fly off of them in waves— it was always like this first thing on a Monday morning. Typically, he was always forced to drag answers, or even focus, from this group.

He feared that he would have just as much trouble concentrating, and he was correct. He taught a total of five classes throughout the day, and while it typically went by rather fast, this one in particular dragged. A minute turned into an hour, and an hour into twenty-four. Lectures went by uneasily, and he found that more than a few times, he stumbled over topics that were supposed to be simplistic. At one point, during his second class, he had to ask a young girl to repeat her question about three times before making sense of it.

All he could think of was Hiro. Would he find a way to get out of the hold of the rope? And if he managed to do that, what else would he be able to manage? Callaghan could just see him stumbling his way out of the house, figuring out how to work the lock only to rush over the threshold calling out for help. A sense of unease was seated firmly in his skin. What if Hiro managed to leave before he could really open his eyes to see what he was trying to do? Before he could see how much better this was for him? The entire thing would be ruined. All this effort…all of this…

After he taught two classes, he had an hour that he took for lunch. Before it rolled around, he told himself that he would rush back home to check on Hiro and quell his fretting and worrying. However, he quickly realized the error in such thought. Around lunchtime brought congestion and havoc to the streets of San Fransokyo. He wouldn't have the hope of getting to his house and back before his next class began. He was forced to stay put, lest he put himself in even more hot water.

He was looking forward to getting together with a few other professors and distracting himself with trivial gossip or just conversation. His mind was worn-out thinking of all the things that could possibly go wrong, and he was struggling to find _something_ to grab his attention away from the 'What if's. But as soon as he turned to leave his classroom, he realized that he was not going to be able to distract himself in the slightest. Far from it, actually.

Stepping out of his room, he stiffened considerably at the sight that met him.

They were everywhere.

Papers were taped up all around. At every corner, there was a slip posted on the wall, and it seemed like near every window there was one stationed as well. It was like a tornado had blown through the school and left debris scattered in its wake. Already feeling disturbed at the sight, Callaghan took a few paces forward, his forehead creasing as he came closer. It was a poster. And as soon as he saw the face that stared back at him, a certain degree of not only rage, but a small bit of fear, sank into his heart like a thorn.

Big bold words met his eyes: Missing Child. Hiro's picture was pasted in the center. He was grinning from ear-to-ear, as if to say an eager 'hello' to whoever managed to stop and glance in his direction. Feeling his stomach begin to twist and knot in on itself, Callaghan moved down to read what was there. 'Hiro Hamada is 14 years old, with dark hair and brown eyes. He was last seen November fourteenth at 8:02 p.m. May be still in the local area. He was last seen wearing dark blue jeans with a red t-shirt and a navy jacket. If you have any idea at all as to where he could be, please call the number below. We're desperate to find him.'

To the side, there was a better, more in-depth list of the boy. His date of birth, his height, precise things like that. But he could not bear to look at it any longer. Anger boiled underneath his skin, and the teacher stepped back slightly, looking to the left and then to the right, as if to try and catch whoever was putting all of these up. They were _everywhere_.

But the thought was ridiculous. He knew exactly who was responsible.

He looked at the sign again and held back a growl. People just didn't _understand_. Hiro didn't understand either, though Robert was determined to change at least his mindset. But that was all that was important, really. Once Hiro was changed, then Callaghan didn't care what anyone else felt. They could put up as many fliers as they wanted, there was no changing this course of destiny. He'd meant what he said last night about doing everything he could to make this whole thing worked. He would go above and beyond, if only he would be able to keep Hiro. It would happen; there was no doubt about it. A few papers here and there wouldn't change that.

Thinking such was the only way he could curb himself from yanking the paper down and ripping it into a million different pieces.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Finally, after ages, Callaghan completed his very last class. As was typical of the upcoming winter days, the sun was beginning to set a little earlier, so the light that seeped through the window was soft and lightly orange. Callaghan called out the usual goodbye to his students, which was only returned by those few who weren't already hustling for the door. Regardless, he continued to speak to a majority of deaf ears. "Don't forget Finals. It might seem like they're a while away right, but they have a tendency to sneak up on those who are not aware enough. And going by most of your grades in here, you'd be well off starting to study up now."

"See you tomorrow Professor Callaghan!" a girl called out— he could not remember her name at the moment; he was too busy thinking of other things.

But he did offer her a small smile before turning to look for another student. A more specific one. And sure enough, his eyes landed on the boy before too long. He was standing up from his desk, rubbing the back of his neck as he scooped his bag up off the floor. He looked tired. Clearing his throat from his desk, Callaghan raised his voice so that it could echo over to the student. "Mister Hamada." Immediately, he perked, looking up from his things to look at his teacher in surprise. Callaghan turned his head to beckon him closer. "Come here a moment. If you have the time."

Tadashi hesitated, and for a heartbeat, Callaghan thought that he could refuse. He could see his student glance over at the clock in the corner, as if he had to be somewhere soon. But after the brief hesitation, he did turn, veering over for him instead of just ducking out of the room like all the other students had done. Going up and stopping in front of the teacher's desk, Tadashi cleared his throat, reaching up to bother with his hat nervously. "Yes, Professor?" he asked.

Callaghan folded his hands together, looking up at the boy with raised eyebrows. "I saw the posters in the hallways," he said, his voice soft. Tadashi's arms swung down to his sides loosely, but he didn't reply. He just looked at his instructor in silence. Pressing on anyway, Callaghan took care to keep his voice concerned. "I'm very sorry about what happened. With Hiro. He's been missing since Friday?" His eyebrows bunched together now, his expression folding into pained sympathy.

Tadashi hesitated briefly, and in the back of Callaghan's mind, he wondered what the source of his reluctance could be. Was he wise? Was he suspicious? Was that why he was opposed to answering outright or aloud? As the silence stretched on, Callaghan's muscles got tenser and tenser. The niggling sense of dread was growing like weeds in his mind. If Tadashi was beginning to doubt him, there wasn't a chance at all for Callaghan to pull any of this off. Something so perfect, and it could be derailed by a simple misgiving harbored by an old family member.

But eventually Tadashi did speak. And when he did, Callaghan realized that the hesitation to speak did not come from a distrust or a skeptic thought. It came from the innate fear of just showing too much emotion. "Yeah." Tadashi was never one to mince words— in the conversations that the two had shared, Tadashi always talked extensively and with not only great purpose, but great passion as well. It was one of the things that Callaghan had liked best about him. But now he was the opposite. His voice was a low mumble, thick and soft. He didn't say any more than the bare minimum. Looking up at him, Callaghan realized that his eyes were redder than normal. He was either sleep-deprived, or he had been rubbing them profusely, or both. Had he been crying? The boy went on, his voice just as much of a mumble. "Yeah, we've been waiting for news…but…"

Callaghan tilted his head to the side. "You have no idea where he could be?"

Tadashi closed his eyes. He just shook his head once. "…No. None."

There was a silence in which Callaghan took in this piece of information. No idea. Absolutely none. He moved on with a small nod. "I see." He pursed his lips, clearing his throat. "I can't help but feel as if some of this is my fault…" Tadashi looked up with this, looking confused. "I assume that Hiro left because of the conflict between you and him over the bot fighting." The boy straightened, his eyes rounding out at the subtle hint. Dimly, Callaghan wondered whether Tadashi even _thought_ to blame himself for all of this. Hm. "I tried to help you by giving you advice on how to handle things, but it seems like it did more harm than it did good."

Tadashi was stunned. His mouth was halfway open as he grasped at straws, trying to pin down something that he could possibly say, though he seemed at a loss. He swallowed thickly and forced himself to speak after a while, though he found that he was stuttering over the words a little bit. Definitely more than he usually did. "N-No, you shouldn't…don't feel bad. It probably wasn't…" He trailed off, too unsure to complete the thought. His expression fell even more, and he stared down at the ground for a heartbeat or more. It was as if he just forgot what he was going to say.

Callaghan clasped his hands together, looking at Tadashi carefully. "Are you alright?" he murmured. He searched the other's expression as best he could. "Well— you're probably not _alright_ , but…is there anything I could do to help? It's hard for me, to see one of my brightest students so downtrodden. Anything at all; you can name it, and I'll make it work."

This brought a weak smile over Tadashi's face. It wavered in an unsteady fashion, but it was there nonetheless. "No," he mumbled, reaching up and rubbing impatiently at his eyes. "No, that's okay. You don't— you don't have to do anything. I'm just…waiting." There was a pathetic ring to the last word, but it was nothing that Tadashi could help. He messed with his hat again and then transitioned over to holding the strap of his satchel with both hands. His knuckles were white with the strength that was put into the grip, and his hands were shaking ever so slightly. Both details didn't seem to register to him; that, or they were old news and simply didn't matter anymore. "I think…that's all we can do at this point."

Callaghan nodded. "But it's hard. And you can admit that." Again, Tadashi's expression crumpled a little bit further. He bit down on his lower lip to keep it from trembling or betraying him in a similar manner. His grip tightened even more on his bag, though Callaghan had not been sure whether or not that was even possible. Tadashi swallowed with a small grimace. Callaghan noted every slight movement, though his voice remained nuetural. "If you need any help from now on, Tadashi, you feel free to ask me for it. I'll do everything in my power to give some help, so please don't feel a stranger to asking for some."

Tadashi's expression softened. Gratitude leaked into his eyes, and his shoulders grew a little less hunched or folded. He seemed to lift, if only by a small amount. Though his voice was still choked when he replied. "Thank you, Professor," he said. "I…I appreciate it."

Callaghan offered him a gentle grin. "Anytime," he replied. "Please keep me posted on any progress. I'm as anxious as you to know— someone as smart as Hiro is would be a great loss in more ways than one." Tadashi nodded, not replying this time. Or maybe he was just incapable of speaking again. Taking the words as a small sign of the end of their conversation, Tadashi stepped away from the desk with another mumble of thanks, turning away and heading for the door.

Callaghan watched him go intently. He called out one final goodbye before the door closed, its small bang echoing through the room and bouncing off the walls. He stayed seated for a few minutes, drinking in what had just happened. The family had no idea where Hiro had gone, which meant that the police didn't have any leads to go off of. Otherwise they would at least have some kind of concept. But nothing. They didn't have even the smallest scraps of knowledge to cling to.

He blinked and looked down at his desk, his lips pressed close together as he nodded to himself. Silence stretched on, and for a moment, he didn't do anything at all. He just thought of Tadashi's expression, of the posters that had been hung by the boy all throughout the school. Pretty soon, thanks to the fliers and word of mouth from Tadashi, the whole city will be on high-alert for the child that had gone missing only a few short days ago. What would happen then? What if someone made the connection? It would only get easier and easier the more that Hiro was publicized.

Steps would have to be taken.

It did not take long for Callaghan to draw some conclusions. And as he did, as small smile etched over his face.

These advertisements— they were a setback, certainly.

But it would not be very hard at all to fix them.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro felt awful. His head was pulsating, every throb causing pain to split directly through his skull. His stomach felt like acid was burning right through it to spread through the rest of his body. Nausea was plaguing him, and whenever he tried to open his eyes, it just made the pain increase nearly tenfold. He hadn't moved all day. The floor already felt like it was rocking underneath him— whenever he shifted, it was like it fell away completely, leaving him reeling and dizzy.

It wasn't that bad, he told himself. It was just a stomachache from not eating, and his head was probably the way it was because of the fact that it had been hit so often. He wasn't dying or anything. He was fine. Everything was fine. He was going to be just fine. _I'm going to be fine. I'm going to be fine. I'm going to be just fine_. The thought was the only one to pass through his mind, which it did so over and over again. It was only thing he could really allow himself to think— it was only comforting one available, so he stuck to it as much as possible.

Exhausted, he drifted in and out of fitful sleep. It was hard to discern when he was awake and when he was asleep. At one point, he could have sworn that he could see that he was back in his own bed, his blanket wrapped comfortingly around him like a cocoon. But then the very next, he was back on the floor of some unfamiliar room, groggy and disoriented. Time passed in intervals. First, the light that came through the window was a light yellow. Then, only a simple blink later, it seemed, it had changed into a dull orange. Another blink, and it seemed to dull even more into a red. Then another blink, and it was dark.

Shadows yawned and stretched themselves off of the walls away from the windows. They pressed in on Hiro from all sides, and the teenager found that trying to stay awake was like trying to run a marathon. It was almost impossible. Again, it could probably be blamed on his lack of food, and at the moment, Hiro was mentally kicking himself for not eating more the night before. He should have forced down more bites, however much it had made him want to gag. At least then his stomach wouldn't feel so gut-wrenchingly horrible right now.

The pain seated directly behind his eyes quickly grew to be too much. He couldn't bring himself to stand up against the agony for very long before he was forced to fall asleep all over again. No matter how many times he drifted into unconsciousness, he never seemed to be able to fully take off the blanket of weak fatigue that was pinning him to the ground. He always fell right back into the safety of unconsciousness. It was a cycle that he couldn't seem to break— even as he realized in the very far reaches of his mind that he was sleeping through the entire day, he couldn't bring himself to stop by sheer will. His pain far surpassed any sort of wish he might have to stay vigilant. It didn't even cross his mind to stop long enough to try and figure out where Callaghan could be, or when he even came home.

But it wasn't too long before he found out whether he wanted to or not. Eventually, he was woken up and forced to remain so. He was jarred awake by the sound of rapid, heavy thuds. They were in close succession to one another, and it was far too loud for Hiro to try and ignore or block out. Hiro's forehead creased at the harsh clatter, and he grimaced, finding that the raid beat did nothing but cause his headache to worsen tenfold. Holding back a small yelp of pain and passing it off instead as an almost inaudible whine, Hiro opened his eyes bit by bit. Recently, he was incapable of just opening them straight-away. It hurt too much; he had to space it out, instead. And even then, it still added to his pain.

He was still laying in the same position on the ground, bent awkwardly and struggling to keep himself together at the same time. His wrists were aching, with the hard bite of the rope causing his skin to become red and irritated. He twisted his head from side to side, trying to stretch out the tension that was centered in his neck. He could feel the floor spin underneath him in response, but he tried to ignore it as best he could. Even if it hurt now, stretching out his neck would help to make that feel a little better, at least. So far, it was the only thing he was capable of fixing— he might as well continue to try.

The noise continued, and it took Hiro a few dragging minutes to be able to wake up enough to make a connection as to what it could be. It was dull and hollow-sounding. He had heard it before, he was immediately sure. The dull thuds brought to mind the long nights he would spend working in the garage alone. Yet still it was another few full minutes before he could finally put a finger on what it was. It was…it was a hammer. A hammer hitting against some nails. Loud and intrusive, Hiro's heart immediately picked up as he landed on the source of the alarm.

He stirred, looking down at himself with a sense of blooming panic. His leg was still awkwardly pointed off to the side, and he could feel how stiff his back was. It felt like he was going into rigor mortis. The thought was enough to make his skin crawl, and he swallowed thickly, finding that he was suddenly desperate to sit up. To move. To not only find out what was happening, but to prove to himself that he wasn't dead. That he could still move and still make his limbs coordinate and function.

He gritted his teeth together tightly, as if he was already barring back shrieks of pain or agony. Bracing himself, he turned and grabbed the bedpost awkwardly with his tied hands, using that as leverage as he dragged himself up slowly, back into a sitting position. He managed the feat surprisingly, but was forced to stop, his head hanging low as he breathed unsteadily through another dizzy spell. It took another few minutes just for his head to stop spinning and throbbing. When it subsided, Hiro was left almost winded. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision, as black dots came in to swarm his eyesight.

Finally, he was able to become at least halfway stable. Once he did, he twisted his head around to look towards the source of the noise, his eyes still squinted. The noise was coming from the window. Through Hiro's still-clearing vision, he could make out Callaghan standing there, driving a nail into the wall with unfaltering urgency. No— not just into the wall. Through wood, and _then_ into the wall. The drapes of the window were pulled shut tightly, and over those drapes, Callaghan was hammering in boards of wood. Like characters did in zombie movies, to bar up doors for a scrap of safety.

A cold pit of dread opened up in Hiro's stomach, and he twisted around even more, blinking away the fuzziness still clinging to him. What was happening? What was going on? Callaghan's back was to the boy, so he was not able to see the look that was pointed his way. And Hiro could not catch his attention audibly— or at least very well, considering that he had the gag taped over his mouth. Struggling anyway, for fear of letting anything go by without the smallest of fights, Hiro mumbled loudly through the tape. Immediately he winced, finding that his dry throat burned in response to the shout. Straining, he tried again, going so far as to raise his voice. Still nothing.

Finding that he was just going to end up hurting himself for absolutely nothing, he gave up. He fell silent, his eyes round and desperate as he just took to watching Callaghan. Robert didn't notice, though. The older man seemed intent on his work, hardly stopping for a single breath. There was a stack of wooden boards on the floor beside him just like the one he was holding up now. Putting them firmly across the window, he was hammering two nails on each side of the wood. He didn't leave a single millimeter of space between them either. He was putting another wall up and across the only connection between Hiro and the outside world. Before Hiro even got the chance to be untied long enough to try and use it.

Hiro's chest ached, like someone took a knife and was currently carving deep into his heart. He watched Callaghan through hollow eyes, not even testing his luck enough to give the smallest of screeches that would surely be heard through the tape. The splintering in his head and stomach was enough to tell him to be smart. Speaking out now and running the chance of worsening the injuries he already had would be downright idiotic. Hiro had the tendency to slip in terms of thinking ahead, but he was slowly mastering the skill as time went on here.

It seemed be the only upside. If it could even be counted as an upside.

Eventually, Callaghan was finished. He set down his hammer, all out of nails. And then he stepped back to admire the work he had completed, his hands resting on his hips as his expression turned critical. But there was no flaw whatsoever. What used to be a window was now a series of boards, one on top of the other. No glass— just wood. The drapes acted as a primary barrier, and the wood as a permanent one. Even if Hiro was let out of his ropes for some odd reason, he would not be able to work around those boards. The nails were driven too deeply into them, and there were no existing gaps to wiggle through.

There was no way.

Callaghan stuffed the hammer into his back pocket. He turned, and finally realized the fact that Hiro was awake and sitting up. His eyes immediately brightened at the sight of the boy. "Hiro!" Again, his voice was much too happy. He sounded like someone who had just won the lottery— not someone who had just turned to look at the young boy they had recently kidnapped and tied up in a room. There _was_ a difference, right? Hiro was beginning to doubt it, going off of this guy's attitude. Callaghan looked from the now-shuttered window, to him. It was like he was waiting for some art critique or something. His voice was still somewhat light as he said: "I decided that having this window here was too dangerous. I didn't like the thought of someone seeing you in here…or you seeing other people. Do you get what I mean?"

Hiro couldn't reply. He was glad that he had an excuse at least— he had no idea what he was supposed to say. You learn your social cues from the people you grow up around. Hiro did not grow up in an environment that would prepare him for this type of ordeal. He wasn't sure a lot of people really did on a normal basis.

Callaghan made sure that the boards were steady and not going to go anywhere anytime soon. Then he walked over, coming to a stop by Hiro and kneeling down to be eye-level. The closeness unnerved the boy, and he leaned to the side just slightly, a lump quickly forming in his throat. Callaghan noticed this, because when he spoke next, his voice was sterner. Certainly not as upbeat or peppy. "Hiro, I apologize for the way last night ended." Going by tone of voice, he didn't sound sorry at all. "But you have to realize that it was the last thing I wanted to do. I just wanted a nice dinner together at the dining table. But…when you did what you did…you just left me no choice. Do you understand?"

He didn't. But the pain in his head forced him to succumb and give a nod.

Callaghan seemed to find relief in the agreement. He offered Hiro a small smile and a nod of his own. "That's good," he said. His voice was akin to that of a parent's, praising their child for a behavioral trait in the hopes that it would stick. _Yes, that's very good. You're the one in the wrong. This is all_ your _fault. Very good._ Very _good._ It made Hiro's stomach writhe in even more pain, though he was adverse to showing it in any way, shape, or form.

Callaghan's expression grew a tad more worried, and he leaned over, reaching out with one hand. Hiro gave the smallest of flinches at the extension, but Callaghan seemed to find the fact trivial. Instead he just pressed his palm against Hiro's forehead, his gaze thoughtful as he felt for a temperature. Hiro's heart ached at the motion— the boy remembering all the times that Aunt Cass had done this exact thing. "Hmm. You still feel a little bit warm," Robert noted. "Maybe we can go get something for you from the kitchen— it might make you feel better."

Hiro wasn't keen on going anywhere feeling the way he was. But he knew that – as disgusting as food sounded to him at the moment – forcing down more was really his only option if he really wanted to start feeling better. All this nausea and all this weakness came from not having food. It was simple fix even if he didn't particularly want to do it. Callaghan reached over and peeled away the duct tape, once again causing Hiro's mouth to prickle and sting. He grimaced but found that the more it happened, the more he was able to get used to it. He wasn't sure whether that was harrowing or comforting. It was probably a mixture of both.

"Now, Hiro." Callaghan's voice was thin and stern now. Hiro moved his jaw, grinding his teeth together in an almost-painful fashion. But he managed to lift his head and meet Robert's gaze, holding his fear inside of him as much as humanly possible. "I want to know that if we go downstairs, you'll behave." Behave. That was the word he wanted to use. It made it sound like he was warning Hiro not to run downstairs and pick up the nearest expensive-looking vase only to throw it down on the ground. Or it made it sound like he was warning Hiro against shoving a glass of orange juice off of a table onto some carpet. It didn't sound at all like he was telling Hiro not to try and break out of a prison or scream for help. Hiro was tempted to ask him to broaden his vocabulary, and he knew without a doubt that he would have about four days ago. But not now. Now he remained quiet.

Callaghan raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Hiro?" he prompted. "Do you think you can do that?"

Hiro gave a small nod.

Callaghan cleared his throat. "I want an _answer, please,_ Hiro."

He bit back a stinging retort. His eyes flickered down to the ground, and minutely, Hiro mumbled: "Yes."

This made the other brighten again. There was that lottery grin. "Good! Well, then! Let's go down to the kitchen!" He started to stand, when he seemed to realize that Hiro was still tied back. Laughing at himself as if this was some kind of a punchline to a joke, he leaned back over to work on untying the knots. Hiro itched for the sense of freedom that would come from the release of the rope, and he could barely hold back a sigh of relief as the pressure gradually loosened until it was absent entirely. He brought his arms back around in front of him, looking down at his hands and realizing with a pang that his wrists were bruising over already.

"C'mon, now," Callaghan encouraged. The older man had pulled away and was now reaching out in order to help Hiro up. Dubiously, Hiro eyed his bad leg nervously. But Callaghan only grabbed hold of the boy's hands, standing up and thereby pulling him up along with. "That leg won't ever get any better if you don't walk on it!"

Well that was some flawed logic if Hiro ever heard any. That was like someone handing him a knife and chirping: "Well, you'll never be healthy unless you stab yourself with this repeatedly!" Hiro wasn't too sure he was prepared to agree with such terms. But he was pulled up to his feet before he could try and object. The room immediately spun the second he was lifted, and Hiro was forced to close his eyes and heave as a wave of sickness passed over him. It subsided in ebbs, seeming to linger for far too long. And Callaghan was not prepared for wait for him either. The man turned and started to pull Hiro along towards the exit of the room, keeping his hands holding firmly to Hiro's. Frankly, it was a slim chance that he was planning to let go in the first place. "C'mon! You can do it!"

He swallowed back the sickness as best as he could. _Mind over matter. You're fine— you're completely fine. Just don't think about it._ Just don't think about the ache in your head or the screaming in your leg; both of which only got worse with each step. It was a little bit easier said than done. But Hiro struggled along. He couldn't do a lot of things anymore, but he could do this, however difficult it came across to him. He locked his jaw back and, for good measure in holding things back, he pressed his tongue up against the roof of his mouth. It wasn't much, but it would help him to keep any noises of pain from escaping too pointedly.

They went down the hall and made it unsteadily down the steps. They were moving at a glacier-like pace, but Hiro was still tempted to ask for them to go slower. He was pretty much left to drag his leg uselessly behind him. He still couldn't be sure what he did to it – whether this was a fracture, or a sprain, or a strain, or whatever – but all that mattered was that it hurt like hell. The pain from his leg alone was enough to bring tears to sting at his eyes; coupled with everything else and he was forced to use his shoulder to brush away tears before Callaghan could notice. With the man's mood swings, it couldn't be guaranteed of what his reaction to them would be.

Look at that. Less than a week and he was already getting the hang of this whole thing.

The thought came out of nowhere, and it was completely unwarranted. Scathing and unforgiving, it was meant to be mean in the first place. It bothered him and before he could linger over the thought he pushed it aside. Grabbed it and crumpled it up and threw it away like it was a piece of paper. He knew in the back of his mind that it would be a problem— that it was too surprising and too out of the ordinary for himself to forget a thought like that. He had been sarcastic towards himself, sure. But never like this. And never just out of the blue.

He told himself to forget it.

It was probably nothing.

They made it down the stairs with difficulty. Hiro stumbled and tripped every other step, it seemed, and it was getting harder and harder to keep back the gasps or sharp inhales of pain. He tried to focus on anything else. The house was lit up this time— the lights were on, and it wasn't dark at all, like it had been last night. Looking around, Hiro could see the soft-colored wallpaper and the neat wooden flooring that he walked on. Down to the side, Hiro could see a living room— a couch and a few stuffed chairs positioned around a coffee table and a mantle. Passing the door – Callaghan put a harder grip on Hiro as they did so – he could see a gray entrance rug laid out in front of it. There were pictures on the walls and framed famous sayings…

It was a nice house. A good-looking one, and from what he could tell, it was very expansive. But that wasn't the most important feature. The most important part about it was…that it was just…completely normal. Hiro didn't know what he expected the rest of the house to look like, but he didn't think that Callaghan would have something just blatantly ordinary like he did. It almost served to frighten Hiro. How could all of _this_ be happening inside of a normal house?

Callaghan was steering him to the kitchen, Hiro realized. This was the same direction they had taken last night. He could not help but watch the door a little bit longer than he did anything else. His chest yawned in pain as his head twisted around to keep watch on it even as he walked. But the effort wasn't worth it— he knew that he couldn't do anything to leave. He was too slow, rooted down thanks to his injuries. And the gun was still burning a hole in the back of his mind. As well as the undisguised threat towards Tadashi and Aunt Cass.

He knew where they lived— and even if that was just a bluff, it wasn't hard to find it considering he knew the name of their bakery. This guy had shown himself to be capable of violence without even blinking; he had potentially broken Hiro's leg and he hadn't even shown the slightest bit of guilt. Surely he was capable of…Hiro didn't even want to think of the word. It was too foul to even consider. And it certainly wasn't going to help his stomach at all.

He had to…he had to protect them. But by doing that…

His thoughts got sidetracked. Walking so slowly, Hiro's eye was caught by a large picture frame. Overly large, at first glance. He turned instantly, unable to withhold a natural sense of curiosity. Sensing his hesitation in walking, Callaghan looked over his shoulder, looking like he was about to tell him to keep moving. But making the connection, he came to a stop, letting Hiro do the same. The boy's legs were shaking with the effort of even holding himself up. But he wasn't paying attention to that. He had turned to face the frame fully, his eyes slightly wide.

It was _her_ again.

It was pictures of all different kinds. All different stages of life. They weren't in any order, either. They were all mixed up. But they were all photos. There was one photo of a little girl, a pleased grin on her face as she held out her arm to the side, showing off a bird that had apparently stopped to take her as a perch. There was another when she was slightly older, maybe about five or six. She was sitting on top of a huge pumpkin, wearing a button-up coat as she beamed for the camera. Another, and she was a baby again, frozen mid-giggle as she was putting on a pair of sunglasses that were much too big for her face. The next and she was nine or so, hanging from a tree branch with her tongue sticking out. There were a lot of them. In one she was a toddler, a pacifier in her mouth as she simply stared up at the camera. Another and she was cuddling with a small dog, bending down low to give it a kiss.

It was like little snapshots of her life, all mixed up and out of tune. Small stories that didn't really have context to them and just left a person guessing. Looking at the large array of photos, Hiro found his heart growing heavier and heavier. A sense of cold trepidation came over him as well. He didn't know anything about her, but he was supposed to _be_ her? How would she feel about all of this? Would she feel as disgusted as Hiro was about what was happening? What would she say?

Callaghan was watching Hiro carefully. He took the boy's silence and attention as something other than what it really was— as he wasn't able to hear what was going through his mind. The man's expression softened. "Those are some of my favorite pictures of Abigail," he said, breaking Hiro's concentration as he straightened. "I love all of them, of course, but…well, I just put them together. I don't have nearly enough picture frames." The way he said this made it seem like he expected Hiro to laugh at it, or at least crack a smile. He didn't. But Callaghan went on regardless. "So many stories…but those were all when she was little."

Hiro blinked and stared a few moments more. Callaghan cleared his throat and went on. "Would you like to see what she looked like when she was your age?" There was something different about the way he said this. Something in the tone of his voice shifted in an odd way. Hiro didn't reply; he didn't even look at him. Taking the lack of response as some kind of agreement, Callaghan reaffirmed his grip on the boy and started walking again to herd him along.

Hiro stumbled and hissed through clenched teeth, but he kicked himself into walking again. They walked in silence until they reached the dining room, stepping through the swinging door to get into the kitchen. The place was certainly fancier than the kitchen at Hiro's house. The counters were a dark marble, as well as the island in the center of the room. There was a fridge on one side, and a sink on the other. Along the opposite wall was a stove underneath a hanging microwave. There were red lights that hung from the celling along a track, which added a soft glow to the room. Shelves and cabinets made borders around the room, a few of them see-through to display little trinkets or statues.

All of these features were taken in before the one that really mattered the most. The one that immediately stomped away whatever curiosity Hiro held for the room and replaced it instead with a sense of fear. It was a random folding chair seated a little bit in front of the fridge. The sight was out of place in itself, but it just got worse as Hiro looked at what was underneath it. It was a huge tarp-looking thing. It looked like a shower curtain, though Hiro couldn't be sure.

Callaghan started to pull Hiro over towards it, and the boy immediately began to prickle over in horror. His face froze into a look of dread, and he started to try and pull back. His breathing picked up significantly. The tarp…that meant— was he going to—? "Come now, Hiro," Callaghan snapped, his voice getting shorter now with the warning. "Don't make a fuss, or I can promise that you'll regret it." Hiro blinked, his jaw locked backwards painfully. He was screaming at himself not to give up so easily, but the boy could not forget the gun that had been pressed to head the night before. He couldn't fight back.

Eyeing the tarp, Hiro was turned and forced to sit down in the chair by Callaghan. He tried to disguise the fact that he was heaving for air. In his lap, his hands immediately went to clench together, the boy trying to cover up their shaking. Callaghan turned to fetch something, and Hiro watched him, hardly able to sit still. He did turn to glance over to the swinging door, once again glancing down at the tarp underneath him. Stupidly, he wondered if he would be able to make it if he tried to run.

He knew he wouldn't.

But the tarp…

Callaghan came back, weaving around Hiro quickly with whatever he had gone to fetch. A pit of terror had opened up to swallow Hiro whole. It was the gun, wasn't it? Callaghan went to get the gun and he was going to kill him. After last night, did he just decide that Hiro would be of no use? He was going to die, he was going to get killed. That was what the tarp was for— it was just an easy way to clean everything up when it was done. It was getting harder and harder to conceal his hyperventilation, and his eyes were starting to blur over and screw up his vision.

He felt a touch on the back of his head, and, ignoring the sting of pain that ensued, he screwed his eyes shut, flinching violently. Maybe it was better this way— this way, Aunt Cass and Tadashi wouldn't have to pay for it if he made some stupid mistake on accident. He wouldn't have to suffer through whatever was going on here, either. It would hurt at first, yeah. But maybe it would hurt less in the long run? Maybe it was for the best?

He kept his eyes shut tight and waited. Just…waited.

But there wasn't a shot. There wasn't a bullet, and there wasn't indescribable pain. Instead there was a…snip. A small sound that was barely noticeable in the first place. Hiro cringed at it at first, too wrapped up in his own panic to really do anything else. His fright melted into confusion, and he opened his eyes slowly, afraid of what he would see. Which was kind of idiotic— it wasn't like he would see his dead body if he hadn't felt anything.

At first he thought nothing at all had happened. That he'd imagined the snip, because for a heartbeat it looked like it had before. But then he looked down and he saw what was on the tarp below him. Confusion still warped his mind as he looked down at the strand of hair. _His_ hair. What the heck…? He started to move and stand up, realizing that Callaghan was drawing his hands through his hair. He hadn't left to get a gun, he'd left to get scissors.

Hiro started to stand, a sense of unease settling inside of him. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice rasping against his throat. Callaghan didn't reply, only pausing to reach over and push Hiro back down into his seat. Again, Hiro tried to rebel and stand. He heard the slicing sound again and looked down at himself to see another strand of hair had been cut from his head. His forehead creased and he tried to ignore the pain in his leg as he stood. "Stop, what are you trying to—?"

Callaghan grabbed his shoulder and forced him back down— this time, using enough force to make Hiro slam back into a sitting position, his teeth rattling. He was too stunned to move for a minute and Callaghan said thinly: "Hiro, I warned you about your behavior. If you refuse to sit down and keep still, I will have no choice but to do something that I might regret later." The threat wasn't hidden whatsoever, and though Hiro's stomach turned, he resigned himself to keeping still. After all— they might not be a gun, but scissors could still do much more harm than they did good.

Callaghan hummed in satisfaction at the boy's reluctant compliance. He went back to work, grabbing at sections of Hiro's hair and cutting them away. It wasn't the worse thing that's happened to Hiro here, but at the same time, his stomach knotted more and more with each clump of hair that fell to the ground. He wanted to ask what was going on, and he almost did a few times. But he always backed out of it right before the inquiry could escape his lips. He wasn't quite brave enough to force it out. For fear of the reply that would follow.

He sat stiffly for ages. A few times, he tried to move his head so he could see the digital clock on the oven, but Callaghan always snapped at him to stay still. His hands were still clenched tightly in his lap, and he was gnawing heavily on his lower lip. All the while flinching and shifting uncomfortably at the snipping sounds of the shears as they stripped away another few strands of hair. Callaghan didn't offer to make small talk. In fact, he seemed to be thinking too hard to even hold a half-minded conversation. The kitchen was covered with a thick layer of tension that couldn't seem to be broken.

He didn't know how much time passed. To him, it went by as if it was coated with molasses. Hiro held a disheartened expression, trying not to notice how much lighter his head was getting and how cold his neck was growing with each cut. More and more hair was falling on the tarp to coat it. He was right about one thing, at least. The curtain had indeed been laid on the ground to save Callaghan a hard clean-up. For some reason though, it was meant to clean up hair, not blood or gore.

For a minute, he wondered if Callaghan had some stupid idea in mind to completely cut off all of his hair. Well— Hiro knew for sure that he had some stupid idea in his head, but _all of it_? It was a little excessive. But eventually Callaghan did stop, apparently deciding that enough was enough. Hiro perked uneasily as Callaghan stepped away, turning and putting the scissors down on the counter with a small clatter. Hiro winced at the small noise, wishing that he could ask what was going on, but being entirely unable to. Instead he just looked down at the ground, his teeth still biting into his bottom lip.

Callaghan turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Hiro alone. The boy blinked rapidly at this, his eyes widening at the realization that he was left unguarded. He looked to the left and then to the right, searching for some kind of loophole or trick. He grabbed the edge of the chair and started to push himself up, making up a hasty plan to rush out. But as soon as he got a millimeter off of the seat, Callaghan was already coming back, Hiro immediately plopping down at once. The plan wasn't even made yet and it was already puffing away in smoke.

He was holding a mirror, Hiro realized. A mirror and something else. The boy waited, so still that he could have been made from stone. Unable to see the boy's half-lidded fear, Callaghan stopped in front of Hiro only a foot or two away. He was looking at the young boy like he was an entirely different person, his eyes gleaming in a new way that Hiro hadn't seen before. The child just stared back, not knowing what else to do. "Oh, you look so…" Callaghan trailed off, his voice somewhat hushed as he couldn't manage to finish the thought. He reached up and rubbed at his chin, his expression bright enough to light the entire house. He shook his head and seemed to melt a little bit more. "You just look so perfect…"

It wasn't a compliment he heard every day. It wasn't a compliment _anyone_ heard every day.

It only helped to unnerve him further. He started to open his mouth and ask what was happening, and why, when Callaghan lifted up the mirror, answering his question before he could even spit it out. He lifted up the mirror and showed it to Hiro so that the boy would be able to see himself without any trouble. And what Hiro saw looking back at him was like a slap in the face.

His hair was _short_. Really short. He didn't think he ever had his hair this short before in his entire life— at the very least, he couldn't remember when he would have. Before, his hair had been only a few inches away from touching his shoulders. It had been flyaway and layered thick; some would say it was a mess. He hadn't ever really cared enough to try and tame it. While Tadashi's hair was rarely ever messed up, it was the complete opposite for Hiro, and he had embraced that fact readily. But now his hair was anything but.

The layers that had caused it to bush and frazzle were gone now. His hair was thin— nearly two times as reduced, if not three. It ended a little bit above his ears, which were left to poke out a little awkwardly. After being molded and pushed and cut, the only hair that hung down in his face anymore were bangs that swooped to the left, covering his forehead entirely. It wasn't going every which way anymore, either. After its layers had been cut and shed away, his hair fell in a much neater way. There didn't look to be a single strand out of place.

It was different. He was different. He was just _so_ different— for heartbeat or two he had to wonder whether or not this was even _him_. Wasn't it a joke or something? This had to be an entirely different kid. But no— even though his ears were normally hidden underneath his old mop of dark hair, they were his same ears. They just showed a bit more. He still had that gap in his teeth, too. His eyes were the same, even if they were looking back at him with sheer terror. Altered as he was, it was still him. Just…different.

"Isn't it wonderful?" Callaghan prompted. Hiro didn't say anything, just staring at himself the way a person would a stranger they just met. Not finished, Callaghan reached out with his other arm to show Hiro what else he was holding. It was another picture. Abigail. Hiro frowned, having to tear his gaze away from the mirror and drag them over to the photo. Instantly, the realization dawned on him— why Callaghan had asked the question he had in the hall.

She was his age. He was pretty sure at least— maybe there was some deviation. But she was much older than any other photos he had seen of her so far, that was for sure. She was wearing an old flannel and jeans that were torn at the knee just a little bit. The backdrop showed a brightly-lit forest. She was holding a backpack at her side with one hand, and the other was raised to wave at the camera. She was wearing glasses that were askew and goofily lopsided from their perch. She was smiling, her cheeks flushed. And her hair...

It was as short as Hiro's was now. Though, of course, the similarities did not stop there. Hiro had to look between the photo and the mirror, just to make sure that he wasn't looking at a reflection anymore. Her hair was cut just above the ears as well. Her bangs swooped to the left and obscured her forehead from sight. It was thin and neat; even the part was in the same spot. It was a nearly perfect match, but his had some technical flaws. That, and her hair was a light brown, when his was dark black. But other than that…it was frighteningly close. Too close for comfort. Looking at it and the implications that were there as well, Hiro felt dread clench like hands around his throat.

Callaghan, in contrast, seemed overjoyed. A wide grin was splayed over his face, and he looked as if he was hardly able to contain his excitement. "Isn't it amazing? How much you look alike?" he asked broadly. Hiro's eyebrows pulled together and his lips pulled down further into a frown. "It's just another sign! You're exactly like her!" Discomfort itched underneath his skin like fire, and Hiro found that it was getting harder to swallow. He looked from the mirror to the picture, struggling to find, and hold onto, the differences and discrepancies between him and Abigail. There had to be more than just the few he could think of right now, right? There had to be!

Callaghan was looking at him tenderly. Softer than he had ever looked at Hiro since he'd been brought here. His voice was just the same as he said: "You're going to be just perfect."

Hiro's stomach knotted and heaved. He looked quickly from the mirror to the photo, the two images beginning to blur and mesh together.

Until he couldn't make out which person he was looking at.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: Merry Christmas! Not the most festive of chapters, but those will come later, don't worry. I hope everyone had a happy holiday! I got dumped with BH6 stuff and I'm certainly not complaining. But I wanted to get this chapter out as a present! You guys have been awesome about giving me feedback so I made sure this update was very quick! Please excuse any typos that might be here. Though if there are any glaring ones I would appreciate a polite indicator as to where they are so I may fix them :)

Thank you very much for reading! Like you always can, feel free to ask questions if you have any. I'd be happy to answer them. I tried to describe the hair as best I could please don't look at me.

Merry Christmas! Hopefully I'll get a lot of feedback for this chapter and I can update again before school starts up once more! Thank you for reading! ;D


	6. Chapter 6

A week went by. An _entire_ week. Seven whole days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours. Ten-thousand and eighty minutes. Far too many seconds to suffer through. That was how much time had passed since Hiro had been dragged downstairs to get his hair cut. Since then he hadn't gotten the chance even get up. After cutting his hair, Callaghan had taken him back upstairs without delay. The boy had been tied back again, and this time he was left there. For the next seven straight days, he had stayed put.

With Callaghan going to work every day, there was no dispute— Hiro would be tied back each and every day, in order to make sure that there wasn't any chance of him making a break for it. As if he actually could make any progress whatsoever in the state that he was in. Callaghan would leave for work in the morning, always coming in in the morning to check that Hiro was still there. And, of course, he was.

Then Callaghan would leave for the day, going somewhere that Hiro could not name. Hiro would spend the day going in and out of hazy sleep, or just trying to distract himself as best he possibly could. There wasn't much he could do. It was hard to look past the pain in his wrists; his skin was being rubbed completely raw, and every slight brush against the rope brought a sense of sharp agony to prick over him. He had grown to prefer sleeping. He was exhausted, and no amount of sleep ever seemed to help him stave off the feeling. He couldn't feel the discomfort and pain when he was unconscious, either. Given the choice, there wasn't any competition at all.

Callaghan would get home and go right up to Hiro. He would consistently try at conversations— he was always in such a good mood just at the sight of Hiro still where he had left him. There wasn't much to get out of Hiro in terms of pleasant conversation, and with each passing day, Hiro could tell that the fact was dawning more and more over his kidnapper. Tuesday, he was still enthralled over Hiro's hair and the supposed resemblance to Abigail. But going into Wednesday, then to Thursday, and then Friday, Callaghan's smile wilted a little bit more every time that Hiro took to just staring past him.

It was all he could do. He couldn't yell or hiss or scream at him. Not if he wanted to be safe— saf _er_. Not if he wanted Tadashi and Aunt Cass to go unharmed, too. Even if the threat against their lives was a bluff, it had sunk down deep to bristle and chafe underneath his skin. Every time that he was tempted to lash out or at the very least say something the slightest bit scathing, his mind was assaulted with images of his family dead or injured. No— he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

So he just didn't speak. Didn't look at Callaghan. As much as he could, anyway. He gave replies, however short, when he knew he would have no other alternative. But it was very clear of his resistance to the very idea. So when Saturday came around and, to Hiro's knowledge of average work weeks, Callaghan did not have anywhere to be, Hiro was not surprised to be totally alone. He waited, certainly. It was hard to tell exactly what Robert would do, so he was prepared for anything. Or, in better terms, he was just waiting for the worst to occur. But he never came up.

Sunday again, and Callaghan only showed to force Hiro to eat something and then to take him to the bathroom. Robert didn't take him downstairs to do so this time— he brought up a plate of food and fed Hiro manually, only after showing Hiro that it was safe by taking a bite himself. The food caused Hiro's stomach to turn— to try and help, he wasn't even paying attention, only taking bites as absent-mindedly as possible. He wouldn't even allow himself to figure out what he was swallowing, for fear the knowledge of it would only further his inability to choke anything down.

But he actually ate an entire meal on Sunday. Of…well, of whatever it was. It hadn't made him feel better— in fact, it only caused his stomach to hurt even more. But in the back of his mind, he knew that at least he might feel better later. He might get more energy and be able to actually stay awake for an entire day for once. If he wanted to get out of here – because Callaghan surely wasn't about to let that happen willingly – then he couldn't starve himself out of defiance. That should be the last thing he wanted to do.

It was routine; that much was for sure. It was a routine that Hiro was being forced to fall into, and one that he couldn't get out of. A week went by like this. An entire seven days where he was trapped upstairs, forced to be tied back into one place, and only wish that he could get back to his own home with his own family. He would always wish. In those few and far between moments of clarity when he actually forced himself to sit up and stay awake for more than a few minutes, he would always get back to that thought. That he wanted to go home. That he wished he could wake up from whatever nightmare this was and just get back to his own life. But no amount of wishing would make a difference. No matter how many times he closed his eyes and counted to ten, when he opened them, he was still in the same place.

So the week went by and then it was Monday again. Only a week had passed, though it felt more like years or even lifetimes. Hiro was woken up early in the morning, like he always was when Callaghan was going to go to work. He heard footsteps and was jarred awake immediately. The first thing he noticed upon easing his eyes open was that he didn't feel as…well, he didn't feel as horribly awful. His stomach wasn't tossing and turning, and even his head hurt a little bit less. He could probably thank the food given to him the night before, though he wasn't very inclined to thanking _anything_ involved in this situation.

He was lying awkwardly down on his side, his joints and neck stiff as a board. He grumbled in the back of his throat, a cross expression flickering over his face as he started to twist. Hiro was wise on how this would all work. How Callaghan would come in and try to wiggle out conversation before the sun was up. How he would tell Hiro he would miss him at work and that he hoped that they would be able to get along better by the time he came back. Hiro would mumble out replies, hardly able to be heard. He would avoid eye contact as much has he could and only meet Robert's eyes maybe a handful of times.

So when he heard the footsteps heading up towards his room, he already start to yank himself up to sit. His head spun a little at the transition, but it wasn't nearly as violent as it usually was. He was able to stave through the rush with a bit more ease, and eventually rested back against the bed, stifling a yawn as he stared straight ahead. Thanks to the boards that had been nailed into place, little to no light could get into the room; it was still too dark to make out specific things.

But he could make out Callaghan— at least he could still do that. The door creaked open, and Hiro listened as the footsteps got louder and louder. Thankfully, the man veered over to the light in the corner and switched it on. Light flooded the room, and, even though it did not hurt _as_ much, Hiro still cringed away from its glare. Callaghan turned to look at Hiro, and Hiro responded by looking ahead. He waited for the other to breach conversation first. But as a few seconds passed in silence, Hiro's face fell into a sense of uncertainty. Callaghan didn't speak.

 _Don't fall for it— it's just what he wants._ He tried to persuade himself mentally as best he could. _Don't be an idiot. Just keep like this._ But despite everything that that one, probably smarter, side of himself was shrieking, he couldn't keep still. The silence was enough of a struggle to bear when he was on his own. When Robert was in the room, it was impossible. There was a lump in his throat that made it hard to swallow. A small sense of fright was already itching under his skin, and nothing had even happened yet.

He couldn't keep still anymore. Keeping up his guard was probably harder than it really should be. He turned his head, drawing closer to himself as he looked up at his captor. At first he wasn't sure what the issue was. Callaghan was just studying him carefully, refusing to speak. Was there something wrong with him? Something that changed that Hiro wasn't aware of? He didn't think so. He looked down at himself to make sure, but he was unchanged. Still in the same clothes that he had been wearing that day he'd gone out to go bot fighting. For a split second, in the confusion of his mind, he wondered if his hair had just sprouted back the way it was. But no; his head was still lighter than normal, and his neck was still cold in comparison to what it had been before.

So what was it?

"Hiro," Callaghan said, his voice slow and suddenly thoughtful. The boy didn't reply, but his attention was clear. He set his jaw back to try and withhold any chattering of teeth. It was getting colder and colder with each passing day, it seemed. But he wasn't too keen on requesting a blanket or anything like that. He was quiet, just waiting. Callaghan walked forward, leaning down and raising his eyebrows. "I woke you up early today." Early? How early? What time was it? Where was a clock? "We're going to get you a change of clothes and a shower before I leave. Does that sound good?"

The way he was looking at Hiro…he was waiting for some kind of positive response. His eyebrows were slightly pulled together, and his gaze was almost apologetic. Well— the most apologetic that Hiro had seen him have throughout this entire thing. What was this? Some kind of attempt at making peace? The thought of agreeing to anything of the sort almost rendered his meal pointless— his stomach still twisted. He hesitated a moment or two, just managing to hold the other's gaze with a slightly pinched expression.

He thought of saying no. He could— right? He could just say he didn't want to and lay back down on the ground. It wouldn't be enough to cause any danger to anyone. He just didn't want to get up and walk on his leg. He didn't want to stand in some person's shower when his back hurt just to breathe. Staying here would be so much easier. He could just lay back down…just close his eyes and go back to sleep. But he couldn't. He wouldn't let that be an option. He wanted to lay down and feel sorry for himself, but he knew that if he did that, he would be a goner.

It had been a week since a change of clothes or a shower. He felt gross— not only on the inside, but on the outside. A shower wouldn't fix much, but it might just be able to make him feel better. If only mentally, that is. But he should take anything he possibly could at the moment. So he swallowed his pride and stamped it down as much as he could. Until it was just a shadow in the back of his mind. "…Okay," he murmured, glancing down at the ground. "Fine."

Callaghan smiled instantly. Whatever apology that might have been in the recesses of his gaze, it was instantly vaporized with the agreement. The change was abrupt, and without a second thought. It almost made Hiro want to take back the quick reply and shoot him down instead. If such a thing would manage to make that regret linger a little bit more. But he knew that it would be useless. And the more he thought about it, the more a shower was beginning to appeal to him. So he kept silent, staring tiredly into space as he felt Callaghan lean over, setting to work on the ropes that was restraining him back to the bedpost.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Callaghan stood outside the bathroom door, guarding it like a sentry would. According to the bathroom clock, it was just now ticking over to be six in the morning. That was usually the time when Callaghan would be waking up, if Hiro knew anything from this new routine. Which he did— after doing the same thing for a week and having nothing else to think about, he wasn't going to mistake anything like that. He was let into the bathroom, the door shut tight behind him. For a while it was awkward; he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do.

Limping heavily towards the shower, he found everything that he needed. The towels, the shampoo, everything. He got it all sorted, and, throwing an apprehensive look over to the door to make sure that it was still closed, he took off his old clothes and got underneath the water. It was more refreshing than he thought it would be. Ever since that Friday night he'd been taken, he'd felt gross and disgusting. A shower didn't go very far, but it was the first exhale of relief that he'd gotten since he'd crawled into Callaghan's car.

He didn't know how much time passed; he was trying not to focus on anything other than the soothing touch of the water. But eventually he heard the door open, and he heard Callaghan's voice over the stream. There was a small order for him to wrap it up. The door closed again before Hiro could reply, not that he was going to offer one in the first place. Hiro blinked and peeked out around the curtain, biting down on his lower lip. But Robert had left. The only thing that was different was that Hiro's clothes were gone. In their place were new ones— he guessed those were what he was supposed to wear.

His chest feeling heavy, he shut off the water and dried off with one of the available towels. Wrapping it tightly around himself, his teeth chattering as he walked back into the cold. He limped over to the new clothes and hesitated, crouching down with a pained grimace to reach over and sort through them. It wasn't anything special. It was a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. It wasn't much at all— it looked kind of big, actually. He was reluctant in doing so, but he figured that whining about it wouldn't change a single thing. He swallowed thickly and moved instead to put everything on.

He buttoned up the shirt with a little difficulty and stepped into the pants with even more. In doing so, he was forced to hold himself up on his bad leg against the counter. But he got everything on in less than a few minutes. The clothes were loose on him, as he'd suspected. The sleeves of the shirt ended a little past his hands, and though the jeans were the right length, the waistband was a little flimsy.

Wiping away some of the condensation on the bathroom mirror, Hiro look at himself dully. He never wore plaid— Aunt Cass had made him wear something like it to a fancy restaurant one time about a few years ago and that was the last time he'd worn anything like it. He much rather liked plain t-shirts. The sight of him in flannel now was just another reminder of the fact that everything changed. His short hair was tousled awkwardly after being dried, and even though it was weighted down with water, it still just so short. He looked at himself like someone would look at a body in a coffin. Mournfully. Like they were parting ways with them.

He was losing himself so fast…

Would he be able to get himself back? Or would it be a fool's wish?

He couldn't find an answer. The door opened once there became apparent a lack of noise on the other side of the door. Hiro turned with a jump, which lanced pain up his spine. Callaghan pushed the door ajar and looked inside, his eyes drilling into Hiro at once. The teenager gripped the edge of the counter tightly at the obvious attention, but he kept his mouth shut. He just watched as a smile spread plainly over Callaghan's face. His voice was soft and cheery as he said: "I _thought_ that they would fit. You two looked close to the same in terms of clothes."

Hiro looked down at himself mutely. He still kept silent.

Callaghan kept the smile on his face. He lingered a moment more to keep looking over Hiro, as if he was trying to remember every detail. Hiro's ears burned and after a second or two he looked down. He stared at his wrists instead, his chest aching at the sight of the reddened and raw lines that had been etched into his skin. They would only get worse in time, wouldn't they? In the shower, he had been forced to keep them out of the water as much as possible, as the water would cause the area to shriek in pain. Even now, when they were going completely untouched, they still stung and prickled.

"Come on, now," Callaghan said, snatching Hiro's attention back. The man had walked over, and he grabbed Hiro's hands, turning and starting to herd him back the way that they had come. Hiro glanced ruefully over to where the stairs were, wanting nothing more than to rip himself free and throw himself down to the door of the house. But unfortunately, he was wiser. He knew that he didn't have the strength. Or the speed. Or the means. Or the courage. He didn't have anything, really.

Not noticing the boy's deflation, Callaghan went on in an almost brisk tone. "You've been very good this week." Hiro wanted to snap something back in reply. Something like: "Thanks, I try so hard," or "Thank goodness! I was beginning to think you would _never_ notice!" But he kept his tongue curbed. So Robert went on, as oblivious as ever. "I decided that I should reward for being so good." Hiro did manage to perk at this, his eyes flashing with interest. "After all, that's what a relationship is, isn't it? A give and a take?"

He paused. Hiro figured that he was waiting for a reply. Thankfully enough, this time there was actually an easy enough one at hand. "Yeah," he mumbled, eyeing him carefully as he limped after. "I guess so." He flinched as he stepped on his bad leg wrong, having to stumble in order to quickly put weight on the other one. Doing so, he seethed inwardly in rage. These injuries weren't just getting more and more painful with each passing day— they were getting annoying and irritating! Hiro was fit to scream every time he tripped or seized forward. Or every time that his back went into some kind of spasm. He would give anything to be able to fix them and get this out of his hair. At least it would just be one less thing to worry or agonize over.

They got back into the bedroom, and Callaghan left Hiro to stand awkwardly up against the wall. Callaghan doubled back into the hall to retrieve something, and Hiro's eyes flickered after him in an almost hungry way. He was itching to shove himself off the wall and make a rush for the steps. A useless thought, considering Callaghan was right there in the pathway. Unless Hiro was planning on flipping over him, he was fenced in pretty permanently.

He came back within the minute. He was holding something in the cradle of his arms, and it didn't take a genius of any kind to figure out what it was. Hiro's eyes narrowed, and he hoped that there was more sign of his anger than there was sign of his fear. Callaghan shut the door behind him with a click, turning and starting to work at that same bedpost that Hiro had been tied to for the past week. The dates were all mixed up in his head— he thought that he should try and make an estimate of the date, but if he was just going to mix it up, then there was no point in mortifying himself.

Hiro watched Callaghan with a distrustful stare. His captor was looping the thing – Hiro didn't even want to think the name, just because it was so cliché and stupid – a few times around the post. He locked the strands together, the small snap seeming to be much louder than it probably really was. It made Hiro remember the lockers that had been at the high school he and Tadashi went to. How for the first week of school, Hiro stood off to the side, pouting and waiting for Tadashi to open his locker for him, because he just couldn't figure out how to wrench it open himself. The thought caused a pang to slice through his heart. His expression grew mournful now as he watched.

In the back of his mind, the part of himself that still had managed to retain just a tiny bit of its old sass, scoffed. _Whoever is in charge of finding missing kids in this town sucks, you know that?_ it proposed. _I mean— it would be so simple to just figure everything out if they looked at this guy's shopping receipts. It'd be like putting together a five-piece puzzle. He's got weird medicine, rope, duct tape, and now he's got chains! Are you seeing this? They're_ chains _. Where do you even buy those? How you walk out of a store with those and_ not _look like a kidnapper? Or a serial murderer! This is child's play, and whoever is in charge right now should be fired._

Callaghan finished locking the first set of chains together. There was a specific code for it, Hiro realized, once the man pulled away. But no sooner had the thought, accompanied with a sense of defeat, crossed over Hiro's mid, Callaghan turned back to look at him. "Come on over here," he said, his voice oddly pleasant. Hiro stifled a sigh. He frowned and obeyed however reluctantly, pushing off of the wall and staggering over as requested. He was pretty much dragging his leg behind him as dead weight. Once he got over to where Robert was crouched, he plopped down on the ground with a pained noise, a subtle grimace crossing over his face.

Callaghan took the other end of the chain and started to wrap it around Hiro's good ankle. Hiro just watched dully, not even trying to say anything in defense against himself. "I was starting to think that after this week, you deserved a tiny bit more freedom," Callaghan explained with a smile. "After all, this is a give and take relationship that we have, you know. Hiro looked at the chain, trying to gauge how much length he would actually have by the time this was done. It seemed like a pretty fair amount, kind of. Fairer than he'd had up until now. It wasn't long enough for him to get out of this room, but…

"You know, Thanksgiving is soon," Callaghan pointed out. Hiro stiffened, his eyes rounding out just a little bit. He didn't say anything, but going by the child's body language, he was clearly listening. "It's November 24th. We've only got about three days. I was thinking that we could do something special. It's our first holiday together." First holiday. A hint that there would be more— much more. Hiro swallowed hard and looked down, fiddling with the ends of his long-sleeved shirt, trying to distract himself. "Wouldn't that be nice? We could fix up a big meal and eat together. Abigail just loved holidays; I'm sure you're the same way."

He kept his eyes down. _That doesn't mean anything. Everyone likes holidays. That doesn't mean that anything's similar between me and her. Just shut up._ A simple enough explanation in his mind, though his tone came across as more of him trying to persuade himself into the line of thought. Or as if he was trying to comfort himself. What actually came out though, was a small mumble of: "Yeah. …It'd be nice." Not really, but it was like being with extended family for long periods of time. When Grandma started raving about how aliens existed and were planning on taking over the world as some sort of government conspiracy, all you could do was smile. Lean over and pat her on the shoulder and say: "Okay, Grandma. Sure." You didn't have another option.

Callaghan grinned. He had finished wrapping Hiro's leg a couple times with the chain, and was busy setting another padlock on it to ensure that Hiro could not get out. "Good," he said, his voice warm and soft. "I'm glad. Because soon after this, it'll be Christmas! We can set up the tree and wrap presents— won't that be fun?"

The lump in Hiro's throat was getting bigger by the second. He thought of all the Christmas traditions he had with Aunt Cass and Tadashi. How they would make way too many cookies every year and spend way too long decorating each one individually. How Aunt Cass would close up early and they would all pile into the car to drive around and look at the lights around the city. How Aunt Cass would read 'The Night Before Christmas' to them before bed just like she did when they were little, and Hiro would always make a point to appear disinterested and bored. Would she do all of that this year? Would she do it even when Hiro was gone? Or would she refuse to do a single thing in his absence?

He wasn't sure which one would be more heartbreaking.

His eyes burned. But again, he got out a small: "Yeah."

The lock clicked shut, sealing Hiro in. Callaghan reset it, so it could not be open again, and he leaned back to look at his work. Regrettably, Hiro had to appreciate this change, if only just a little bit. His wrists were stinging, and the fact that they didn't have any more pressure on them was a relief. And this way he wasn't all that restricted on how to lie down or anything like that. He could get up and walk a few paces side to side if he wanted to, though he knew that he probably wouldn't be able to go that far.

Callaghan looked like he wanted to say more. But he looked down at his watch and realized what time it was. "I've got to get going," he said, his voice tinged with regret. But he bounced back quickly, of course. "But at least today is the last day before Thanksgiving Break! Then we'll have plenty of time to spend together; won't that be wonderful?"

He nodded once, looking down to study his ankle instead of meeting his gaze.

There was a beat of silence. Neither of them spoke, though it was clear that there was more to be said. Reluctantly, Hiro turned to look up, gnawing on the inside of his lip. Callaghan was looking at him oddly. At his cut hair, his new clothes, and his slightly bruised forehead. At the way that Hiro was leaning back, trying to right the distance between the two of them. He was curled up and away— the only thing that was close to Callaghan was his leg. That was just because he wasn't willing to risk the pain of moving it. Something flashed in Callaghan's eyes, and for the briefest of seconds, Hiro's heart froze completely as hope clenched at his throat.

Was he starting to realize how awful he was being? Was that even possible? What would happen then? If Robert was able to see how much he was hurting him, then wouldn't it just be that much easier to get out of here and go home? Hiro had no idea how else was supposed to get out. This could be his chance. He wasn't too great at hiding the emotion from his face, he could tell. Blinking rapidly, he opened his mouth and started to say something that he hoped could help him. "Calla—"

"I've got to go," Robert cut him off, standing abruptly. Hiro's face fell, sorrow and confusion wiping away his hope quicker than it had even come over him in the first place. "I can't be late to work. But I'll be back later. Try to have fun." Fun. Sure. Hiro's heart had spiraled down to his feet— he could feel how low it was as he watched Callaghan turn and go back out into the hall. The beads clacked loudly as he passed underneath them, and Hiro cringed away from the slam of the door as Robert shut it behind him much louder than before.

He was alone.

Again.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro had been bored loads of times. He was bored in kindergarten when all the other kids were finger painting, and he was over asking his teacher what a quadratic equation was. He was bored in first grade when the class was playing kickball and he was finalizing plans for a rocket car he was going to make out his wagon. Later on, Tadashi would express reluctant disapproval over the idea, but ultimately would be his biggest supporter. And he was bored in high school as a nine-year-old in high school when he was forced to take a Fine Arts credit in band and he had to play the flute. Every day he would scowl in his chair and picture himself throwing the stupid thing against a wall just to make himself feel better.

But he had never been bored like this.

There was absolutely nothing to do. Nothing he _could_ do. He was given a little bit more leeway with the loose chain around his leg, but he couldn't walk around much before he was just exhausted. And spending more energy than he had wasn't a good idea— not if he wanted to keep himself alert and aware. He wasn't too keen on sleeping in and out of the entire day like he used to. If he did that, he would have no chance at all in getting out of here. Not to mention that while you were asleep, you were the most vulnerable. He wasn't about to let himself think of all the awful things that could happen in such a situation, for fear of letting his mind and its 'What if's get the better of him. But it was a thing to keep in mind. If only to stop him from wasting away in a heap of self-pity.

He was currently on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He had gotten up and tried out to stretch his bad leg— he had watched a few movies where easing onto a hurt limb could make it feel better. Well, from the way he was feeling now, he could confidently declare that those movies were full of garbage. The injury felt ten times worse now that he had walked around on it. He grimaced every so often, rubbing at his forehead to try and ease his headache. He had tried to yell out a couple times, but his throat was dry and scratchy. He couldn't get much out at all— it would be a downright miracle if anyone could possibly hear his cries.

So he had taken to looking at the decorations around the room, distracting himself by trying to think of what they meant about Abigail. There was a Periodic Table poster near her closet— that was pretty self-explanatory. But what about that picture frame over on the dresser? It looked like it had a small flower inside of it rather than a photo; what was the story behind that? And the frame nearer to her bed— who was the blonde-haired girl? Was it a friend? A family member? Where was she now? What was she doing? Had she been sad when she found out that Abigail had died?

What would she think of what was happening now?

It had dawned on him fully a few days ago on where he was, and what was happening. How he was being tied down in a bedroom of someone who, before, had spent their life maturing here. This had probably been somewhere Abigail would run to after school, to throw her book bag over in that corner of the room before hopping onto her bed. She had probably had sleepovers here and made memories with friends. He wasn't sure how old she was when she died— he hadn't gotten that far in the mystery yet. But the fact remained that she _was_ gone.

Wasn't Callaghan tarnishing the memory of her by doing this? He'd taken this place that had probably been so special to his daughter and now he was keeping Hiro prisoner in it. He's taken this place from a refuge to something completely opposite. Didn't that bother him just a little bit? Had it even occurred to him? Probably not— not a lot of things did. The thought was sad. This whole _place_ was sad. And as the days dragged on, Hiro began to fit more and more into the mold of it.

He sighed loosely, his eyes flashing as he dropped his arm down to his side. His expression was heavy, but it was nothing compared to the feeling in his chest. He wished he knew what time it was. It was impossible to tell now that the window was boarded up. It felt like ages since Callaghan had left for work, but time had a tendency to stretch and drag here anyway. It probably hadn't been that long. It probably wasn't even lunchtime.

His head drooped to the side and he started to toy with the idea of sleep. He was averse to it, of course. He rather would just stay awake. But there was nothing to do, and it was getting harder and harder to cope with his exhaustion accurately the longer it went on. He could only distract himself so much. Yet as soon as the thought crossed his mind, the boy perked, his eyebrows pulling together as he tilted his head to the side. He had turned towards the bed in a frustrated motion, meaning nothing of it. But now he perked instantly.

On the ground, he found himself looking underneath the bed that he had been tied to for so long. Oddly enough, it had never occurred to him that there would be anything underneath. Well, anything of interest. But something only a few feet away caught his attention at once. Near the edge of the space, he could see a box— something neat and tidy to stand out among all the other clutter and junk that was there. Biting his lip and throwing a habitual glance over at the door, Hiro maneuvered so he was on his stomach, reaching out and dragging the cardboard out from underneath its cover.

Ignoring his throbbing leg, Hiro sat back and examined the thing. It was pretty sizable— both tall and wide. Turning it in a circle, Hiro tilted his head as he saw marker scribbles on the thing's side. The words 'Memory Box' was stenciled in blue and purple marker, pink and green flowers and stars surrounding the label as if it was exploding or something. Hiro picked it up and shook it. Sure enough, there was an immediate response of clanging and rustling. It sounded like a lot of stuff was in there.

Curiosity killed whatever hesitation he might have in opening it. Caving far too quickly, he grabbed the edges of the lid and eased it off. He put that to the side, his eyes lighting up with interest as he looked down at the contents. There was a _lot_. For a second, he wondered how all of this could even _fit_ underneath the lid comfortably. He made a mental note of how everything was assorted. He wasn't sure whether or not Callaghan knew this was down here, but if he did, then Hiro would have to make sure to put it back exactly the way it was.

Some part of him snapped that this wasn't a good thing to do. At the very least, it was disrespectful. But Hiro wasn't listening, apparently. After putting the lid down at his left side, the boy leaned over and started to pick out what was inside. There were a lot of tiny things, and Hiro started with them first. There was a small wristband with a theme park's logo printed across it that was resting on top. There was a keychain with a tiny teddy bear on the end of it. There were a few pieces of paper, all folded up together. After unfolding them and separating each one, Hiro stared down at the new piece of evidence before him. 'Congratulations Abigail Callaghan for your Silver Shield Award.' 'Let it be known that Abigail Callaghan is now a member of the National Honor Society.' 'This Certificate is awarded to Abigail Callaghan for Academic Success.'

He blinked, frowning as he looked over the awards and certificates and compliments. At the sea of evidence of what Abigail was— had been. It took a few minutes just looking at the stack. Tearing his gaze away, he turned back to the box and forced himself to get back into motion. There was still a lot more. There was a notebook that held little poems and small doodles. Nothing very revealing. Poems about a cute boy, or nice weather. There were pen scratches of cats or some spiral designs. Hiro set it aside with the lid.

There was a small picture frame holding a tiny photo. It was Callaghan; he was a little bit younger-looking than he was now. Or…maybe he just looked happier. Because he certainly _did_ look happier, and Hiro wasn't even sure if that was possible. He was smiling widely, his arm around Abigail in an affectionate hold. He recognized the girl instantly. She had the same short hair that he did now, and those same framed glasses. It was clear that this had been taken by her— one of her arms was stretching to the side, out of frame.

He lingered over the photo for a moment more, a frown weighing down his face. But something else won his attention instead. He looked away from the photo and back in the box instead. What was that? He put down the picture, leaning over and brushing aside a few more things to discover what was underneath. It was…it was a video camera. He took the thing in his hands and tilted his head to the side. He tried turning it on, but, predictably, it didn't work. He glanced over again at the door, checking for Callaghan even though it wasn't nearly dark yet. He wouldn't be home for hours, probably. Though he was still going off on a hunch.

He dove back down into the box. He searched a little bit more, looking underneath more memorabilia. Finally, with a rush of relief, he found what looked like a charging cord. He fit it into the camera and then turned to look for an outlet that was open. There was one over by the closet. Again, his innate curiosity won over. He forced himself up to his feet and tried to keep an eye on how long until he would be yanked back by the chain. He sidled over, trying to keep as much weight off his leg as possible. He reached the power source and plugged the camera in.

It didn't turn on immediately, but Hiro gave it the benefit of the doubt. He resigned himself to waiting, but he doubled back to look through more of the box. There wasn't much else that really piqued his interest as much as the video camera had. He glanced over to it routinely, just to check whether or not it was still charging. Everything else in the box were little trinkets that probably had a few stories behind it. A small necklace that looked like it was for a small child. There was a little paper Christmas ornament, and there was a tiny stuffed elephant that had room to fit on the palm of his hand. There were a few plastic rings, a few flowers that were wilted now…

Just a bunch of small items that seemed out of the ordinary. Looking through each thing, it made Hiro wish he could ask what their significance was. Why did you keep these things? Why did you keep this bottle cap? This piece of soft fabric? What made you set aside these specific things to remember? He wanted to know, he realized. There was a genuine desire to find this information and make a connection of some kind. Maybe this bottle cap was from a bottle of soda that her best friend had bought for her. The worn-down pencil was from a test she had aced that had been very important to her. This movie stub was the cause of a wonderful night out with friends or family— a night that she wanted to remember dearly.

He lingered over each one for what seemed like ages. When he was done, the contents of the box was scattered around him in a surprisingly-organized fashion. He looked around at all the bits and pieces of Abigail Callaghan's personality around him. He had hoped that he could have found out more from the efforts he went to. But it was mostly just like looking at pieces of a huge puzzle. You might see vague shape and colors that could go together, but in the grand scheme of things, you couldn't make out the main picture. He blinked and looked from the mass of stuff, over to where the camera was. It was still charging, but maybe it would work at the same time?

Biting down on his lower lip and shuffling on the ground, he scooted himself back over to the device. He picked up the handheld camera gently, as if it were made of glass. He turned it over in his hands for a few heartbeats, just taking to studying it for a moment. It looked old, compared to what was available to buy nowadays. It was just a little bit bulky. But at the same time, it was still small enough to fix in that box. Sitting down and drawing the camera closer, Hiro turned it around and realized that there was a small pouch implemented on its side. Inside, there were a few SD cards.

It took him a moment to figure out how to work it. He pried the screen away from the camera's body, his eyes narrowed as he looked at the array of buttons. He pressed 'power' and waited tensely for a response. Sure enough, it switched on, and he felt a strong sense of relief settle over him. He scooped all of the SD cards out of their holder, turning and putting them down the ground so he could separate them. To his disappointment, none of them were labeled. There was no indication of order. Once again, it was a puzzle that he could only stare at for a few heartbeats.

Shaking his head and moving on regardless, Hiro chose the first one he laid eyes on. It probably wasn't the first to watch, but the thought was trivial. He just inserted the card anyway, pressing the 'menu' button of the camcorder and watching as the screen lit up with options. Small clips that ranged from one minute long to even five, all laid out in front of him for the choosing. He blinked, pausing a few moments more. Somehow, this felt all wrong. Should he really be doing this? Wasn't it…bad? He couldn't bring up a specific reason of why it might be, but still, the thought crossed his mind.

Glancing back at the door, he shoved the worry away. There was a reason he wanted to do this. He wanted to shed light on otherwise darkened places. That was all he was doing, nothing more. So where was the harm in it? He sighed and turned back, looking down at the camera again which was now resting in his lap. He selected the first video, knowing that all the others would play soon after. He wasn't sure what to expect from it all. He just sat back and watched, his expression pensive and shrouded in thought.

He watched images spring to life on the tiny screen in front of him. There was a sound of people talking in the background— faintly, he could hear music as well. The video was shaking slightly, showing that whoever was filming was walking at the same time. From behind the camera, he could hear a girl's voice. A chill went down his spine as he wondered whether or not it was Abigail. Up until this point, he hadn't realized that he would be able to hear her voice for the first time. What she sounded like. What kind of person she really was.

"You gotta keep up, dad!" she yelled. She turned, and the camera showed what had been behind her. Hiro could see buildings and neat sidewalks surrounded by trees and greenery. It looked nice, though he was trying to figure out where they were. A park? A garden somewhere? But as the person – Abigail, right…? – took to walking backwards, Hiro caught sight of something in the corner. Bars, he realized. Some kind of animal was behind it, and he knew that it was a zoo. The camera bounced, as if she had given an impatient jump. "Dad, you're so slow, oh my goodness!"

From the throng of people, someone broke free, looking impatient but amused at the same time. It was Robert. Hiro's grip on the camera tightened at the very sight of him. His hair was a little bit less gray, and there looked like were a few wrinkles missing from his skin. He wasn't sure, but Hiro had to wonder whether or not all that came as a result of his daughter's death. The person holding the camera had said 'Dad.' So it had to be Abigail. He had thought as much at the very beginning anyway, but a new kind of emotion settled over him now that it was confirmed. On the screen, Robert smiled, hurrying to catch up. "Slow down, Abigail. You're in such a hurry. We've got all day."

"We gotta see the lions!" she objected, spinning back front. Hiro noticed that her stride picked up where it had left off. She wasn't slowing down at all. "They're only active early in the morning here! If we take too long they'll be asleep! C'mon!" He tried to judge her age based on the way her voice sounded, but he couldn't manage it. Not to mention that it could be way off base, too. He just couldn't see her, she was behind the camera. Would all of these be this way? "Come on, come on, come—"

The screen flickered once, and when it came back, it had skipped to the next video. She must have cut it off there. Now she was standing at the edge of a habitat, the ground dipping away from her behind a fence to hollow into a grand space for animals. Sure enough, there were a few lions scattered around the area, as they were supposed to. But they were sleeping. Lounging around and not going much of anything. One rolled around a few times, but it went right back to sleeping again. There was a small sigh behind the camera. It shifted as Abigail did. "Well. This is boring."

Robert's voice came in response. "Hm. Looks like they're sleeping."

She scoffed, her voice dry. "Yeah, no kidding. It's because a turtle beat us here."

There was a brief silence, Abigail using the time to zoom in on a few of the lions. But there wasn't much else to see. Hiro waited for her to say something more, maybe get deflated and snap at her dad for holding her back. But that didn't happen. All that happened was that the girl straightened with a little hop, pulling away from the fence and turning to aim the lens at her dad, who smiled and raised his eyebrows. "Let's go see the penguins!" Abigail cheered.

The video skipped again. It came back, and Hiro stiffened as he recognized the kitchen he had sat in, inwardly suffering as Callaghan had sheared away his hair. It was the same counters and the same sink. It was a different fridge, he saw, but it was all the same. It looked like Abigail was holding the camera now— the only person in the frame was Robert. He was checking something inside the oven, perking as he realized that he was under the stare of a recorder. There was a small giggle from the other side, and Abigail's voice leaked into the film again. "Dad! Say: 'Happy Thanksgiving!'"

Robert rolled his eyes, shaking his head good-naturedly. "Abigail, when I bought you that camera, I didn't think that you would record _everything_." He looked back to the oven, narrowing his eyes as he inspected whatever was cooking inside of it. "So when are you planning on leaving?" he asked, shutting the door with a small sniff. "Didn't you mention something about going to see Hikaru at some point?"

Abigail shuffled over, turning on the oven light and crouching down as she filmed the turkey cooking inside of it. "Nah, I'm gonna stay here. I'll hang out with him another day. I'd _much_ rather stay here and chill with your burned turkey."

There was a small sigh. "It's not burned, Abigail."

"Nah, of course not."

Another skip. Now it looked like Abigail was laying on her back. The camera's screen was filled with the blue of the sky and puffy, white clouds. It was quiet for a few minutes, then a new voice asked: "What are you doing?" It was an unfamiliar voice. One that Hiro hadn't heard before. Abigail turned, aiming the camera at who had spoken. It was a boy. He was laying down a few feet away from her, looking at the girl with an amused expression. He had brown hair and green eyes. He looked old— like a junior in high school. Or maybe even a senior.

There was a small giggle on the other side of the camera. "I dunno. It's pretty."

The boy sat up and tilted his head to the side. "So you've changed your mind then?" he asked in a teasing way. "You don't want to be a scientist! No! You've gone to new heights! You'll be a famous director instead."

Abigail sat up with a chuff of laughter. "Please," she groaned. "No thanks." She turned, taking a sweep of the place around them. Trees and neat grass and beds of flowers here and there. A sidewalk looped along a ways away, and Hiro figured that it was a park or something like that. "I just like making videos to look at later. You know— things I don't want to forget. That's why I wanted a camera for my birthday." The camera rested back on the boy. A smile was evident in Abigail's voice as she said: "Say hi, Hikaru."

He grinned and made a face at the camera. "You don't want to forget little old _me_? How sweet. I am _so_ touched right now." This earned another round of giggles from Abigail, and Hikaru seemed more than pleased by it. Hiro's expression grew downcast as he watched the small screen. He drew his good leg a little bit closer to himself. Hikaru reached forward, gesturing for the camera to be handed over to him. "Come on, come on," he urged.

Abigail leaned back. "What? What!?"

"C'mon! Just gimmie the camera real quick. Just _real_ quick."

She sighed. Hiro could tell she extended the thing over to the other. Her voice was barbed and protective as she warned: "I swear, Hikaru, if you break my camera, I am going to _leave so fast_ you wouldn't even begin to believe it."

"Oh shush," he snapped. He grabbed the camera and twisted it around with a shuffle. Then it was pointed over at Abigail. She looked older too. Older than the picture that had been shown to Hiro once Hiro's hair had been cut. He was willing to guess a junior of senior in high school too. She was tall and graceful looking. She was wearing a little sundress, and a jacket that did not match. One that seemed out of place and too big— was it from the boy? Her hair was a tad bit longer, as if she was trying to grow it out again. But it still didn't touch her shoulders.

There was a beat of silence, the camera just aimed at her without Hikaru saying anything. Her expression grew a tad uncomfortable, and her nose scrunched up a little bit. Her eyes flashed and she looked at him imploringly, waiting for something. Eventually she couldn't take it— her face broke out into a smile and she reached up to cover her mouth as she broke into another fit of giggles. The sleeves of the jacket hung past her hands, and it made the motion goofier than it already was. "What!?" she demanded.

Hikaru didn't say anything, but Hiro could tell by the subtle shaking of the camera that he was laughing.

Abigail put her hands on her hips, her lips puckering out in a mock pout. "What!?"

"Nothing, nothing!" Hikaru chirped. He moved on, his voice much softer. "I just don't want to forget _you_."

Abigail's arms dropped to her sides. Her face flushed over in red embarrassment, and her grin got a tad shyer. The camera lingered for a moment, and then it was cut away. The video ended and picked up into another one. This one, Abigail was back behind the camera. The lens was pointed down to show that she was holding a large envelope in her other hand. "Dad!" she called out. She paused a moment or two before yelling again: "Dad!"

"What?"

The camera rose level again. Robert was walking down the stairs, stopping midway at Abigail's call. She sighed shortly. "Would you just come down here?" she asked. "Something came in the mail just now, I wanted to show you."

Callaghan eyed her, looking dubious. But eventually he sighed, walking down the rest of the steps and going over to stop in front of her. Abigail leaned over and offered the envelope over to him, which he took in curiosity. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "What is it?" he asked. Abigail just hummed in reply, the camera bouncing up and down slightly in anticipation. A smile came over his features; it was the kind of gentle smile that crawls over your face subconsciously— it takes over, and you cannot stop it, not that you would want to. Hiro's own expression fell at this, growing sorrowful and morose. "Do you know what it is?" Callaghan asked.

Abigail just laughed. "Go on! Open it!"

He did. And Hiro watched as his smile grew even bigger, excitement and astonishment filled every inch of his face. Subconsciously, the boy drew the camera even closer to himself. Callaghan looked up, his expression rendered astonished. "You got accepted?" he asked. When Abigail only laughed in response, he took a small step closer. "Did they accept you? Are you going?"

She was ecstatic. Her voice was high-pitched as she yelped: "Full ride scholarship!"

Callaghan let out his own laugh. His eyes shone, and he ducked forward to wrap his arms around his daughter tightly. " _Really_!? Oh, I'm so proud of you, honey! You'll be wonderful— you _are_ wonderful! This is so great! You'll be open to so many opportunities now!" He pulled back, the camera just managing to catch his face in the uppermost corner. He shook his head as if in disbelief, though it couldn't be anything of the sort. His voice was softer as he said: "You're going to be amazing."

Sounding embarrassed, Abigail hummed. "Thanks, Dad." She adjusted the camera to point it bluntly in his face, laughing as his expression immediately soured. "I got all that on camera. Now I have proof next time you scare one of my friends— you're just a softie."

He laughed, turning and setting the envelope down on the table. "I do not _scare_ your friends," he objected.

"Yeah you do! They always say how you look intimidating and stuff. Or maybe it was just from that time in middle school when you yelled at that boy after he pushed me. It kinda _was_ right in front of everyone." Hiro heard her laugh. She seemed to do that a lot. "You scarred my friends for life, Dad."

"Well, then, at least nobody else is about to push you, then."

Robert turned and started to leave. Abigail shuffled forward, aiming the camera down to look at the papers that he had put down. Hiro knew that building— it was the school that Tadashi went to. He could see its name printed over the front of a brochure that was by the acceptance letter. San Fransokyo Institute of Technology. Abigail rose her voice a little bit to call after her father, who was nearly in the other room by now. "As long as I'm going places now, maybe you should follow me." He perked, turning and looking at her with a quizzical expression. "You could get a job here. Stop working at that dumb lab. You complain about it enough."

Robert scoffed. "Yeah, right." He turned and left the room.

Abigail didn't try to call him back. She just pointed the camera at everything on the table. The letter, the brochure, the pictures— all of it. There was another happy little noise from her end, before that video shut off as well.

It moved on like all the others, and when it popped into the next frame, the scenery was changed. Whoever was filming was standing at the bottom of the stairs— the stairs that Hiro had been dragged up and down time and time again here. The house looked clean and…somewhat livelier. Hiro couldn't tell it was a trick of the light, or just a mental flaw. But it looked as such nonetheless. It was completely silent. The camera turned just a little bit, to show that there was someone else waiting at the bottom of the steps. It took a moment, but Hiro managed to recognize the boy from before.

Every bit of his posture said that he was nervous. He kept shuffling his feet, and he held a box in his hands with a vice-like grip. He was clad in a suit, a cheesy-looking flower pinned into place. His eyes flickered over to the camera, but he looked away quickly. Apparently it was not on his list of priorities to hold such eye contact. The person behind the camera cleared their throat, and Hiro thought that they were about to say something. But a shout interrupted them.

"Dad!" The camera turned to point back up at the steps. Abigail was standing there, looking irritable. She was wearing a light blue dress that went all the way down to the floor, silver beads scattering its entirety. Her hair was a bit longer still, showing that even more time had passed. It was barely reaching her shoulders now. It had been curled and pinned up and fixed, and makeup was dusted lightly over her face to match her fancy attire. In her right hand, she clasped a sparkly purse, and her other hand was balled into a fist. The fact that she was so pretty at the moment was undermined by the fact that she looked so angry. "Stop making him feel weird!"

Callaghan just laughed behind the camera. "I didn't say anything at all!"

Abigail rolled her eyes. "That's _exactly_ what I mean," she sighed. But she righted herself, catching Hikaru's gaze and smiling. She went down the steps, stumbling over what Hiro could only guess were heels of some sort. She flushed at the sight of the video camera, asking plaintively as she reached the bottom of the steps: "Dad, do you have to film right now?"

"It's my daughter's Senior Prom!" The rejection came quick, as if he knew the question was coming. "Of course I have to film it. Besides— you've no room to talk. You record _everything_. The least you could let me do is get this, hmm?" Abigail looked like she disagreed, though she didn't say anything else. Nervously, Hikaru's arms jutted out as he extended the box over to her. Blushing openly, Abigail reached over to take it, shuffling off the lid and pulling out a corsage. It was a light blue flower— to go along with her dress. Grinning, she set the container aside and pulled it over her wrist. All the while, the camera watched.

"Thank you, Hikaru," Abigail said warmly. "I love it."

This only seemed to make Hikaru burn even redder. He glanced at Callaghan and then quickly back to his date. As if sensing the discomfort, Abigail moved on. "Well, we should get going, Dad," she said, flashing him an awkward grin. "We wanna go out with friends first, and Prom starts at seven, so…" She broke away from Hikaru, going over instead and planting a kiss on Robert's cheek. "I'll see you when I get back."

"Wait, wait!" he objected. He turned, starting to set the camera down. "Before you go, let me get some pictures! Here, let me just turn this off and—"

The video ended. The storage did as well. Hiro quickly popped out this SD card for another. It was before the others, he figured. Abigail's hair wasn't as long. It was an array of things. Videos of vacations, videos of walks together. There was a video of a snowman that Abigail had declared: "Had been built by the masters of San Fransokyo and would stand forth to test time itself." Different memories and different times. It didn't answer any of Hiro's pressing questions. Like what happened to Abigail exactly. But it did tell him little things about her.

That she fancied Hikaru, and the emotion was well requited. That she didn't like scary movies or anything scary at all, really. A video showed that she loved coffee, and even took to trying to make some at home sometimes. The key word being trying, of course. Hiro could tell that she was hyper and curious and smart. When she got angry, he was pretty sure her nose always scrunched up, even though it did the same thing when she was laughing. But most of all, he knew that she liked spending time with her dad. Nearly every video, they were together. Which meant she wanted to remember those moments above all else. Very few was she with someone else or alone. Mostly it was just the two of them.

Hiro waited for something, he wasn't sure what. Every time he saw Robert enter view on the screen, his grip would tighten ever so slightly on the camera. He tried to look for a sign, or a hint. Something to point to and say: "Look at that. He really _is_ crazy, you can tell." But he couldn't get anything of the sort. He looked for a word or two, or something that could have foreshadowed him being this way. But no— he was completely normal. The only thing that Hiro could see was the amount of love and happiness that was in his eyes when he looked at Abigail. How hard he laughed when she cracked a joke or did something cute.

Hiro looked for something to even the score, even, he was so desperate for some type of closure. If he couldn't get a warning sign, maybe he could be satisfied with a little bit of misery on the older man's side. A fight with Abigail, or an injury that occurred— something that would let Hiro sniff in contempt and mutter: "How's it feel to be in pain?" Because that's what Callaghan deserved, wasn't it? To feel a little bit of the pain that Hiro was suffering through right now? It was a malicious thought, but wouldn't it be karma? It wouldn't come close to what Hiro was dealing with, but it would be _something_. Something that Hiro could think of to comfort himself with whenever Robert fixed him with one of those chilling smiles.

But maybe that was too harsh. To wish something on a person, with Hiro knowing what he knew. This was in the past. This was back when Abigail was living. When she was breathing and filling this house with laughter and activity. It was like reading the ending of a book first before going back to read the entire thing. Hiro knew what would happen in the end. She would die— somehow and in some way, she would leave Callaghan and not come back. His daughter, who he obviously loved more than anything else in the entire world.

He was so happy whenever he looked at her. No matter what video, and in no matter what situation, he was thrilled at the sight of her. Wasn't it sad, to see that and know what would happen later? Wasn't that punishment enough? He loved her so much…he must have suffered even more so when she was gone. Who wouldn't want their child back? With how close they were, it had probably been like half of his heart had been carved out. No wonder he was crazy with grief. He just missed her. No wonder he was doing all of this. He loved her.

And it was no wonder that he had chosen Hiro. After watching each video, the boy could tell that they were growing more and more alike. With every smart comeback that Abigail quipped out, and every conversation about mechanics or robotics. They both talk for hours, probably, but just like Hiro, Abigail didn't seem to have many friends. Just like him, the topic wasn't a concern for her. They both loved sweet things, too. The longer he watched, the longer the list grew.

Everything made sense. How was he supposed to blame Calla—

He went rigid. Absolutely stiff. On the screen, Abigail was practicing some kind of presentation over engineering for school. At the start, she had been muttering about using it to look over herself. It was something Hiro actually found interesting, but as soon as he realized where his thoughts had drifted, he stopped immediately. Cold horror was like ice underneath his skin. He had…had he actually started to think…surely he just hadn't…but what…? Hiro blinked rapidly, his heart starting to hammer hard against his chest.

No. No, no, _no_. He wasn't going to. He couldn't let himself. Callaghan was a _kidnapper_. That was it. None of this _changed_ anything. Hiro was still here. His leg was still useless, and he was still chained to a bed. These home videos didn't alter a single _thing_. His grip on the camera increased, and his teeth started to grind together as the meaning of his thoughts sunk in. He tried to get angry at first. He tried to steer himself in the direction of rage so that he could blame this all on something else. Anything else.

But fear won over him quickly; he could not manage to force himself into anything else. His expression fell, and his eyes crowded with shock. He looked down at the camera, and his breathing began to pick up. He couldn't do this— how had he come so close to doing that!? How could he have— did he really—?

Hiro acted before he could think. If he stopped to debate over what he was about to do, he probably would have taken a moment to calm himself down. But for now, fear and horror over where his own mind had wandered was enough. He jerked, hoisting up the camera and throwing it away from him, as if he was suddenly burned. The device flew to the side and rammed into the wall, sliding down with a thud to the floor. Hiro grimaced at the noise, but only drew closer to himself.

He pulled his leg up close and wrapped his arms around the limb tightly, leaning forward and putting his chin down on top of his knee. The camera was still working apparently; he could hear Abigail going on with her speech as if nothing had happened at all. It was a few feet away, but he could still make her voice out. He thought of checking to make sure he didn't crack the screen or anything. But he was rooted in spot. His eyes were round and hollow, and a shiver lanced down his spine as he stared blankly over to where the thing had landed.

He didn't move to fetch it back— he didn't even move to try and find a better position for him to be in. He just sat and stared, sitting as if he were made of ice and feeling like sure at the same time. It was like he was in shock, his mind spluttering after it had found itself being dragged down a darker path of thought. He tried to tell himself that it was fine; that he hadn't meant it, and the thoughts only came to him because he just wasn't paying enough attention.

But the dread remained hanging over him.

He kept sitting there. Just staring straight ahead.

The idea he had stumbled into – the mere _thought_ that Callaghan's actions could be founded and understood – continuing to ring in his mind incessantly.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: **The house was awake, with shadows and monsters.**

 **The hallways, they echoed and groaned.**

Control - Halsey

As always, thank you very much for reading! :D

We get to see a little bit more about Abigail in this chapter! I had fun writing it. And we'll only get to find out more as time goes on. And the relationships between her and the other characters will be explored as well! I hope I get to hear from you all! And I really appreciate all the feedback I'm getting! It makes me so happy to read every review and get so excited to update! I don't think I've had a story that made me feel that way in a while!

Please excuse any typos. And, like I always say, if you have an issue and you'd be so gracious as to point it out, I could certainly explain or fix it!

I'll see you all after ten reviews! :P


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I love all of your guys' feedback! Thank you so much! School has started up again and got in the way, so I tried my hardest to get this out as soon as I could. Which, turns out is today! I hope you all understand my new schedule! And know that as long as you all keep reviewing, I will of course strive to get my chapters out the quickest I possibly can.

And I apologize for any typos! I barely have time to get this chapter out, and while I'm typing I'm juggling quite a few things. So it was very hard to accomplish. I hope that if there are any glaring ones, you'll be understanding and point them out kindly? Thank you~! :)

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Usually today was…lighter. Putting it a little blandly. Today was supposed to be that way, of course. You were supposed to give thanks— that part was even in the name. But there wasn't much room for Aunt Cass and Tadashi to be grateful for anything at all. What were they supposed to treasure? The fact that the house was so quiet now? The fact that nearly every night, the two of them stayed awake until near one in the morning, hoping that the phone would ring with some kind of news? That they almost couldn't bring themselves to talk to each other, because they couldn't speak over the absence that was between them?

A week. A week and three days.

Hiro was still gone.

And now it was Thanksgiving.

…What were they to be thankful for?

Aunt Cass was in the kitchen, checking on the turkey for the millionth time this past minute. Tadashi looked over at her; a frown was weighing over his face, and he knew that she was just on-edge. It was the same reason why she sometimes washed the dishes twice now, or why she mopped the floor when she'd just mopped the other day, or why she asked if Tadashi had done his chores twice in the same hour. She was just apprehensive, and he couldn't blame for her being so. But, in the attempt to try and lighten the mood as best he could, he turned and offered her a smile from where he was stirring the potatoes. "A watched pot never boils, Aunt Cass."

"Yeah; yes, yes, I know," she mumbled quickly, drawing away from the stove with a shake of her head. "I'm sorry, I just…I just don't want to burn it." She sighed and looked down at the ground, getting distracted for about five seconds. Tadashi's smile wavered a little bit, and he started to open his mouth to try something else. Anything else would be better than nothing. But before he could manage it, there was a series of pattering footsteps.

Honey Lemon stood awkwardly at the top of the stairs, a steaming Tupperware container in her hands. Her eyes were slightly round as Tadashi and Aunt Cass immediately looked over at her. She tried to give them both a smile, but it came across a little weaker than first intended. "I hope you don't mind that I came a little bit early," she said, glancing at the clock. It was four right now. The others weren't supposed to show up until five. "I was thinking that I could help you cook a little bit. If...if that's okay. If you need help, that is." She seemed a little flustered. "I-If you don't need my help, then that's fine. I can just…"

Aunt Cass snapped out of her stupor. It took a second, but eventually she shook herself free of her mental lapse. She recovered a smile, looking from Tadashi to his friend. "No, no, that's fine. Welcome! Ha—" She broke off a second, as if she was second-guessing herself on the date. Or…something like that. But she brightened again. "Happy Thanksgiving!" Tadashi shoved his hands into his pockets, looking a little disconcerted. But his aunt just shook her head. "I'm actually glad you came! I was just wanting to go out and buy some soda. You can watch the turkey if you like. That way Tadashi won't burn the mashed potatoes."

Tadashi blinked, tilting his head to the side. "You didn't buy any yesterday?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, no. I was going to, but I got sidetracked." She turned and offered him a weary smile. "But I can run out now and get it. It's not a problem. Honey Lemon can help." Honey Lemon nodded early at this, turning and putting down her plastic container and weaving around to deposit her coat on the living room couch. Aunt Cass went over to Tadashi, having to get on her toes to plant a small kiss on his cheek. "I love you," she reminded him sweetly. Tadashi smiled, trying not to notice the fact that this new goodbye was becoming a habit for her. "I'll be back in a flash."

Tadashi offered her a kiss on the cheek as well. She smiled and turned, shrugging on her jacket and fetching her keys. Honey Lemon took to standing beside him, the two still and quiet as they watched her leave. They stayed in such a way, too. They didn't even glance at each other until Aunt Cass' footsteps faded away completely, and there was the small echo of a door shutting.

Tadashi cleared his throat as he turned back to the potatoes. He stirred them a few times to make sure that the bottom wouldn't be burned through. Silence weighed between them— a weight that Tadashi was beginning to be very skilled at holding up. Honey Lemon turned and checked the turkey. He turned with the motion, his eyes softening a little in humor. "You really don't have to do that," he said. "She's just a little paranoid at the moment. It's find to just run with the timer." It still had forever left to cook properly. If Aunt Cass would persist in opening and reopening the oven, it would never get done.

Honey Lemon perked, seeming confused. But she took her friend's word for it and stepped back, making sure that the oven door was shut tight. She turned and smiled at him. "She seems to be doing much better," she offered, already knowing that the effort was probably fall a little bit short. Tadashi looked over at her; underneath his gaze, she felt the need to continue and elaborate. "With the whole situation, I mean. She's handling it really well. You both are," she added hastily. "At least…probably better than most people would be."

There was a beat of stillness. Tadashi blinked, and seemed to hesitate enough to properly draw in what had been said. Honey Lemon was almost afraid he hadn't even heard, as the pause seemed to go on for forever. But then he grinned. "Yeah, of course. We're, uh…we're doing fine. Yeah. I mean— you can't just mope around. That won't fix anything, you know?" Honey Lemon started to reply, brightening a little at the reply. But Tadashi wasn't finished talking, apparently. "You just have to look on the brighter side. That's what I've figured recently, I mean. And it's been working a lot better for me. It's better than being sad. You have to be hopeful. That things will work out. Right?"

Honey Lemon stuttered a bit, caught off-guard and wondering whether or not she was supposed to respond exclusively to each question he'd asked. If they could even be considered questions in the first place. "Uh— right. Yeah! Of course!" she gushed sweetly. "Yeah, you're completely right! I'm really proud of you for thinking that way, actually! It can't be easy, and I think that shows that you're very mature about what's going on." She smiled softer. "That's very strong of you, Tadashi. I really admire that."

His smile wavered just a little bit. Honey Lemon immediately noticed the small quiver, and she felt a wave of concern and worry come over her. She started to take a small step forward, but Tadashi cut her off a second time as he spoke again. "He'll turn up eventually, right? It's not a big deal. There are posters everywhere, they've got people looking…it'll be any day now. Any second, and that phone will ring. So there's no point in worrying or stressing ourselves out." He turned and stirred the potatoes again. "Everything will be fine. It's not worth worrying over."

Honey Lemon wasn't as reassured this time. Her face fell— his voice sounded softer. Thinner, somehow. Her expression clouded, and her eyebrows pulled together a little bit as she cocked her head to the side. Her stare was apprehensive, to say the very least. "Tadashi?" she asked. Her friend was never one to conceal emotions. He was very forefront with everything, usually. But recently, he seemed to be closing off more and more. When they went out to eat lunch, he didn't talk as much as he used to. Everywhere, really, he was blank. And when he did try to appear upbeat, it was always forced-looking. She crossed her arms over her chest, seeming upset. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Tadashi took his time in replying, just staring down at the pot he was watching. Honey Lemon walked closer, her eyes slowly narrowing. Eventually, Tadashi replied. But it was clear that his voice was soft and weaker than usual. He shrugged, and smiled again— a smile that couldn't manage to reach his eyes. "Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, I'm just…I'm completely fine. Of course. Why wouldn't I be? It's going to be fine. Just…all of it."

Honey Lemon frowned. She reached over reluctantly, looking unsure about crossing a line or something. But regardless of her hesitations, she put her hand down on top of Tadashi's own. He jerked in surprise at the gesture. He turned, his mouth opening as if he was about to spit something out. Honey Lemon offered him a sympathetic smile. "Tadashi…" she said softly, her voice hardly above a whisper. "We know, okay?" Tadashi didn't say anything, his mind blank as he just stared at her. She ducked down a little bit. "It's hard. It's really, really, hard. And you can admit that to us. Because we can help you. That's what friends do, you know? That's what we're for."

Tadashi just stared at her. Disappointed, Honey Lemon was beginning to think that he would just disregard her efforts like he'd fallen into the habit of doing recently. But then again, she had never been as forward as this before. Still, she was braced for her friend to reject her regardless. But he didn't. Tadashi stared at her a few moments more. Then he blinked, looking down at the ground and swallowing hard. His face seemed to flush an unpleasant color. He ducked his head, closing his eyes tightly. His hand curled into a fist, and Honey Lemon realized that his shoulders were beginning to shake. Her eyes widened a little bit, and she began to feel a wave of guilt clog at her throat.

Tadashi inhaled sharply. He turned to hold himself up against the counter as he hung his head. Honey Lemon bit down on her lower lip and reached out to press her hand comfortingly against his shoulder. He shook his head in a jerk. When he spoke, his words were thick and congested. His face was getting even redder, and his expression was crumpling in on itself, like a building that was losing its foundation, and could not stay standing.

"I can't…" Honey Lemon fought the urge to flinch away as her friend gasped sharply a second time. Her heart was twisting into a painful knot as she listened. Tadashi went on, despite the difficulty that was plaguing his speech. He pushed off the counter, reaching up and rubbing at his eyes, which were starting to water. "I can't stop _worrying_!" She closed her eyes tightly, gnawing on the inside of her cheek. "I don't know where he is! _I don't know where he is, Honey Lemon_!" He raised his voice into a shout at this. He dropped his arms and looked at her with huge eyes, looking at a loss for anything and everything. Tadashi's lower lip trembled, and he took a small step forward, gesturing harshly. "I've known where he's been ever since he was born! Now he could be…" He shook his head, swallowing hard a second time. "He could be dead somewhere, Honey Lemon! It's been a week! Usually they find people by now!"

"I know, I know, Tadashi." She reached over, taking both of his hands and holding them tightly. She couldn't offer much solace or support. Only the police could do that, by telling the family where their missing member was. Until then, there wasn't much at all. But she would do all she could to keep herself trying. She wasn't about to let her friend suffer like this; she was true to her words. She bent over to try and catch his eyes, offering him the most encouraging smile she could manage. Though sadness was raw in her eyes at the same time. "It's awful, and it's something that nobody deserves to go through. But you've got to believe in Hiro. He's smart. He's _so_ smart, Tadashi— he takes after you." She felt her own eyes prick and burn at the sight of her friend. "And I know for a _fact_ that he is going to do everything he can to get back to you wherever he is, because you're such a good brother. It'll just take some more time…"

"But even if he does get back!" Tadashi yelled. He rubbed at his forehead, looking exhausted and worn-out. He closed his eyes, his expression turning sickened. "I've researched stories, Honey Lemon! Stories about people who— who get kidnapped or just disappear and show up later! They're not— they're _different_. They're not happy, they're traumatized…" He broke off, a choked sob working its way out of his chest at the fact. Honey Lemon cringed away from the point, but she wasn't about to try and interrupt him. "I can't think of him like that! He's happy, he's smart, he's— he's _Hiro_!" He sniffed, struggling to clear his throat. "I just want him back," he whispered, his voice coming out broken into pieces. "I want Hiro back…what if I never get that?"

"You will, Tadashi," Honey Lemon reassured at once. She searched his face anxiously. "You will, okay? You and Aunt Cass will. You've got to know that. Hiro will come back. And even if he is changed, you know for a _fact_ that everyone will pitch in to help." She smiled and forced her voice to be more upbeat, her voice lightening into what she hoped was teasing lilt. "He won't stand a chance against us! Right?" Tadashi offered a wavering smile in reply, and she smiled, grabbing his hands again and giving them a soothing squeeze. She nodded earnestly. "We'll help him. Just like we'll help you now. Trust me. Trust _us_."

Tadashi's eyes flickered over to her. They were still watering, shining with water that caught the light overhead. He smiled, though his grin was far from steady. His face was flushed, and it was clear that there was still a haunting sort of pain hanging over him like a veil. But he seemed comforted for the moment. He held tight to Honey Lemon's hands for a few more moments before pulling away to rub his face clean. He sniffed, grimacing and offering an embarrassed laugh. "I probably…I probably let the potatoes burn," he said, obviously trying to change the subject.

Honey Lemon's expression softened. "They're probably fine," she said, taking the hint and turning towards the Tupperware container she had brought. If Tadashi didn't want to talk any more about the subject, then she would not pry. Not right after she had just finished, that is. "I made stuffing for later," she said brightly. "It'll probably need reheating by the time we eat, but I figured it would be rude of me to walk in here without bringing along something. So I hope you like it. It certainly took a while to make."

She started to prattle on a little pointlessly. About the classes that she was taking and what she had been doing over the recent break now that she finally had some time to breathe without homework crowding her. Tadashi listened; he didn't offer much to the conversation. He was just a silent audience. But it was to be expected, and so Honey Lemon didn't try and wriggle out any sort of cooperation. She let it lie where it was. Just kept on with her story.

"…So anyway, in the long run I aced the test. So I guess there wasn't any point in worrying over anything, but still. I was awake for probably twenty-three hours; it wasn't a very pleasant experience. I wouldn't recommend doing anything of the sort." She offered a small laugh, acutely aware in the back of her mind that the one-sided silence was chafing and uncomfortable. She was worried that she had crossed a line with her friend. She was worried that she had upset him even more than he already had been, or dragged something up that didn't he hadn't needed to focus on right now. He was fine before— had her lack of thought led her to make the whole situation even worse?

She started to draw up the nerve to ask. She wasn't sure what exact words she would use, or whether or not it would help things or just drive them into further complication. Fortunately, she didn't have to, though. "Honey Lemon?" She turned as soon as her friend started to say something. A smile was wavering over her features; she wasn't sure whether or not it would be an appropriate reaction. Regardless, she did meet his gaze, her eyebrows raising in a questioning look. He hesitated, but when he spoke next, his expression melted into one of gratitude. "…Thank you. For…for listening, I mean."

She felt a wave of relief at the simple words. She nodded once and beamed. "Of course." Her reply was instant. "Anytime at all. We're always here to help. Always have been, and always will be. That'll never change."

Tadashi smiled. There was still a sadness in his eyes— Honey Lemon didn't think that that emotion would leave until Hiro was finally able to come home. A lot of what was happening right now wouldn't change until Hiro got back, if she were to be brutally honest. Aunt Cass was getting more and more paranoid and scatterbrained by the day. And however much effort Tadashi put into making himself seem stronger than he really was, Honey Lemon saw that he was hurting. Until Hiro got back, she couldn't see how anything could budge from where it was being etched into stone.

But at least they would have support. They would be able to pull through all of this. Maybe not easily, but they would still be fine. Tadashi's friends would never let him down, and that was etched permanently too.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro was trying to get better at distracting himself. Usually it wasn't something he was inclined to do. He liked focus, he liked stability. Distractions weren't an ideal thing for him to do, back in his old life. He always had to have something to drive for, otherwise he would go crazy of boredom. But now, he was left no choice whatsoever. He had to give himself distractions, and he had to try and do everything _but_ focus. Just to save himself from truly going crazy. Not from boredom either. He was afraid of losing complete sanity. Of slipping away without any warning just to wake up one day and realize you're deranged.

All of this fear, and it was only a week and three days into it.

But then again, with that line of thought, it brought up the idea that there would be more days…longer days…days that would never seem to end, and would to stretch into infinity. The thought was enough to send his skin crawling, and he tried not to linger on it as best he could. That was his new plan. He tried not to linger on anything. An idea he usually opposed, now he clung to for dear life. It was a security blanket of sorts, though even that didn't really do enough justice to describe how much he needed such a mindset.

Hiro had been moved down to the dining room. He was sitting in the chair he had been put in that first night he had tried to escape, his good leg tied to one of the posts with the same chain from before. Well— he'd been here the first _and_ last night he had tried to escape, that is. The house was filled with the aroma of cooking food, and it was a haunting reminder of what today actually was. Hiro was trying not to think about it too much. About what Aunt Cass and Tadashi might be doing right now. Were they celebrating Thanksgiving without him? Or were they just sitting in silence, trying not to look at one another?

He blinked rapidly and looked down at the table, grabbing his thoughts and tearing them away towards something else. It was much harder to do than he thought it would be. There wasn't many safe things he could move his mind to without straying into darker, more frightening paths. So he was currently trying to think of any random fact he had shoved away. Anything else he could focus on.

Between 1900 and 1920, the Olympics considered Tug-Of-War an actual event. A baby can cost their parents about 250 hours of lost sleep within the first year of birth. Google was originally named BackRub. The most shoplifted food is candy. Only female mosquitos will bite you. The Q in Q-tips stands for quality, and their original name was Baby Gays. It was all useless information he had on hand just because he found such information wildly interesting as a little kid. He used to hoard trivia books and try to amaze and wow Tadashi with such pointless facts. He grew out of it, of course, but it was still there.

And so now he was utilizing this build-up of information to provide himself something else to think about. He grasped for the information, and when he found it, he lingered over it for as long as he could. _Wow. What a surprise. I can't believe that the Olympics made Tug-Of-War a real event. I wonder who won a gold medal there. I was never really good at Tug-Of-War. I never had enough strength for it. And I definitely wouldn't be that great at it now. I probably couldn't even win Tug-Of-War right now if it was with a three-year-old. And oh, what was that other thing? A baby can cost parents 250 hours of sleep within the first year of birth? That sure is crazy. I wonder how much sleep I costed my parents back then. I'm probably paying for it now, though. How many hours of sleep have I lost so far being here? Going by the way I feel, I bet it's been—_

It was always like that, though. No matter how hard he tried to put his mind on a different track, it was already rerouted back to where he was now. He couldn't get free of it. The whole situation was like a cobweb; as soon as he tried to get himself out of it, he realized that it was still stuck fast. He couldn't get rid of the clinging webs. Hiro jerked and shook his head to clear it, cutting ties with the musing altogether. It was just making him feel worse, he was slowly beginning to realize. Pretending that everything was fine was almost as pathetic as wallowing in self-pity, wasn't it?

But then again, if that was the case, then he wasn't sure what other alternative he had to go to.

There was a set of footsteps in the other room— the kitchen, where it branched off from the dining room that Hiro was in. There had been noise in there all day, now. The sounds of pots and pans, which were accompanied with the smell of cooking food. A typical, normal sound for today that was still enough to set Hiro on-edge. He was sitting tensely in his chair, looking up now to listen a little bit closer. What was Callaghan doing? Was he almost done?

What would happen when he _was_ done? The thought of food sent Hiro's stomach into spasms and twists. He wasn't hungry; he hadn't been hungry in forever, it seemed. He was acutely aware of the effect it was having on him. He was exhausted, no matter how much he slept. And, reaching out slowly in front of him as if to see for himself, Hiro could see that his hand was still laced through with tremors and shakes every so often. He didn't exactly feel his hunger— which was weird. And it should probably be a little bit concerning, too.

But at the same time, it was hard to be worried about something like that. After all, he had another problem in front of him too— one that was a little bit more of a priority to be wary of. And as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Hiro perked, realizing that the footsteps, before pacing in the kitchen, had now turned to branch out towards the dining room. Towards to where he was sitting.

In his lap, Hiro's hands clenched together tightly. Nervousness began to flood into his gaze, a sense of fear pushing up at his throat. The door in front of him began to open, and hurriedly, Hiro forced himself to calm down before Callaghan could enter the room. He wouldn't help his case if he showed such blatant paranoia at the mere arrival of him. Or…more accurately, it was because he just wanted to keep just a little bit more dignity. There wasn't much left— it was hard to keep some in a situation like this. Call him stubborn, or just downright stupid. But it was what he was resolving to do.

Callaghan came into the dining room through the swinging door. An array of smells wafted in after him, though Hiro wasn't inclined to let his mind linger on such a trivial part of what was going on. Instead, his eyes just drilled up to the other, keeping his slightly-shaking hands hidden underneath the table. He didn't say anything, but apparently it wasn't needed. Callaghan was already taking the initiative to speak first. "Sorry that dinner is taking so long, Hiro," he said, immediately smiling as he looked at the boy still sitting where he had left him. Hiro didn't react, just watching him carefully. He smiled and started to take a seat across from him. "But it'll be good. I promise."

Hiro was tight-lipped. Callaghan sat down with a small sigh and leaned forward a little bit. He seemed excited and eager, and it took a conscious effort from Hiro's side not to cringe or look away. "…It's our first holiday together," Callaghan reminded him pointlessly. Hiro just blinked at this. He still remained mute. This didn't seem to faze Robert, though, who went on just the same. "Though this one isn't as big as next month's." Hiro tried not to show the fact that his stomach was slowly knotting them more this went on. "Abigail loved to go all-out for Christmas. We had so many traditions we shared together…and now we can do them. Doesn't that sound nice?"

Hiro looked down at the table. He thought for a few seconds that seemed to stretch on into minutes and hours. At first, he was just trying to find out what he should say in reply. He couldn't stay silent for long— he knew that by now. Callaghan would get frustrated and from that point on, it was a gamble to know what could happen. But gradually, he blinked, a sense of realization turning to tug at him and pull his attention elsewhere.

He kept studying the table. In his lap, concealed from view, his hands knitted tighter together. He forced his voice to stay steady and collected, despite how quiet it did manage to come out. "Yeah…" he mumbled softly. His eyes flickered up to look at Callaghan; sure enough, his captor was still looking at him intently. Trying not linger over the detail, Hiro took in a small breath before moving on. "I was just…uh…thinking. About…about that."

Callaghan perked, like he always did when Hiro took initiative to have conversation. Or at the very least, speak and carry on a line of dialogue without being forced to. "Thinking?" he mused, his eyes brightening at the notion. Hiro bit down on his lower lip, but he managed to nod once. Callaghan leaned forward even more, his fingers locking together as he rested his arms on the table. "Thinking about what?" he prompted, when Hiro did not make a move to elaborate. "Go on, Hiro. We have some time before I go back into the kitchen. I would love to talk about whatever is on your mind."

Hiro's eyes flickered back down to the table again. He took to gnawing on the inside of his cheek, fighting the urge to wince. He had to keep himself together as much as possible. He cleared his throat before he spoke, trying not to let his words come out thick or constricted. "I…uhm— I've been here for…more than a week now." He had to stop after this left his mouth. His voice broke slightly over the time period, and he had to cough again to correct the hiccup. He had a point to this. "And…I just…realized something. About…us."

Callaghan looked like someone had just placed a present in front of him. "You did?" he asked, a smile spreading quickly over his face. "And what did you realize?"

He kept himself as engaged as possible. Hiro dragged his eyes up from the wooden table, forcing himself to meet Callaghan's gaze. There was a sense of repulsion with the contact, but Hiro shoved it down. He couldn't focus on it. He tried to offer Robert a smile, hoping that it looked more genuine than it felt. "I was just thinking that…well, you know so much about me." _Be careful_ , he warned himself. _Be very,_ very _careful._ "You know a whole lot about me, actually." He kept up that smile. "And…I don't know, I just thought…maybe it would be a good thing for me to know more about you."

That was good, right? Prodding, but…hopefully not prodding enough to be noticed…

He waited with bated breath for Callaghan to respond. Predictably, and to Hiro's vast relief, the man was intrigued and encouraged. Why wouldn't he be? It was normal enough, the way that Hiro put it forward. And with everything else that had happened, it seemed to-the-book. This entire time, Callaghan had been pushing for some kind of reaction from Hiro's end. Some kind of positive turn in this twisted situation. Now, Hiro seemed to be extending forward that exact thing. "Hm…" Callaghan hummed softly, his eyes softening somewhat as he surveyed Hiro. "Well, I don't see any problem with that at all," he remarked, Hiro trying not to show his mental respite too blatantly. "After all, how many times have I said so far that this whole thing was a give-and-take?"

It was true that he'd said something along those lines. So far Hiro wasn't really seeing physical evidence of that idea, but he figured that if he voiced such a thought, he'd be pretty screwed. So he just pasted on a wider smile and nodded again. "Right. Yeah, that's…that's right." Underneath the table, his hands started to wring apprehensively. "I just…would like to know more about you. I think…it would help a little bit. After all, I'm…" He started to swing his good leg, and his voice weakened a little bit as he finished quietly: "…going to be here with you for a very long time."

Callaghan's grin turned into a beam with this last part. It had been what he'd been waiting for this entire time, wasn't it? Audible or physical agreement? Wasn't that what this was? "Of course!" he said, his voice immediately brightening just like his expression. "Of course, Hiro! I'm very glad that you thought of this! It'll do wonders!" Hiro smiled in turn, the gesture seeming fragile— weaker than it had been before. But Callaghan didn't seem to notice. "What would you like to know?"

Again, the cautionary voice was back. _Be careful. Don't do anything stupid; please…_ "How about…what your favorite thing is?" he asked, putting forward the first thing that he could think of. This reminded him of all those 'Ice-Breaker' games that schools would play during the first few days. Where you went around the room and tolerated playing these dumb question things just because you knew that, at least for this semester, you would be stuck with these people and would have to interact with them at some point in your life.

This was turning out to look like it would be the same kind of deal.

Callaghan laughed at the question. At first, Hiro thought it was because of its simplicity. After all, it didn't take a genius to land on something like that, did it? But when he replied, Hiro realized that the humor wasn't necessarily because of the question's origins. It was more because of the question's more obvious answer. An answer that should have been foreseen, if Hiro was truly focusing on the situation at hand, and not about being careful. "My favorite thing?" Callaghan asked. He smiled, tilting his head to the side and looking tenderly across the table at him. "Well…of course, my favorite thing was Abigail." Hiro's expression grew tense and a little wary. "But…but now my favorite thing would have to be you, Hiro."

 _Well, I suppose you can't get upset over that._ Hiro's own voice echoed in his head, trying to sound fair and detached from the situation. _If you'll be honest, you kind of did just walk right into that one._ Fair enough; alright. He did his best to forget that one. He had to move on with it. "And…what about your favorite food?" he asked weakly, trying to find a groove. He couldn't go full-on without some kind of lead-up. Clearing his throat, he added a little awkwardly, hoping to help himself: "You…you know that mine is spaghetti." It wasn't, but that was beside the point. "So…what's yours?"

Callaghan grinned. "I enjoy a good meatloaf every now and then. Maybe I could teach you how to make some. Abigail used to love for me to teach her how to cook. It was never very big dishes though; she was always more involved with school." His grin widened. "But see, you don't have to worry about school, do you? We have all the time in the world to spend together. We can do anything we'd like."

Hiro felt sick. But he smiled nonetheless, forcing it to be as bright and as bubbly as he possibly could. "Sure; of course," he relented softly. But then he paused, swallowing and pulling his eyebrows together as he went on, allowing thought to leak into his voice. "But…I guess you and I both know that that isn't… _technically_ true. Right?" He looked at Callaghan carefully, trying not to appear as on-edge as he really was.

Callaghan's face fell at this. His lips were pulled into a frown, and he looked at Hiro closely now. "Why do you say that, Hiro?" he asked, his voice sobering now. He sounded serious— not spilling over in joy or excitement anymore.

Exhaling in a slow sigh, Hiro continued steadfastly. He couldn't stop short now. "Well, you know, we can't spend forever with each other," he pointed out. "You're always gone on the weekdays. When you go to work." It was hard to sound nonchalant with this. His voice wavered slightly, and he started to swing his good leg a little bit more, trying to give himself something else to focus on. "And…I don't even know where you work. You've never told me."

 _Where_ do _you work…?_

Callaghan grinned again, recovering the expression, much to Hiro's relief. "I suppose that's true," he said. "But I've got to work. We can spend time together when I get home, can't we? The workday isn't very long. Though I have to admit that I would much rather be here than there. Hands-down." He started to get up, turning to head back to the kitchen, most likely. "But I'm here now, and we can spend today together, can't we? But right now I have to get back to the food. Thanksgiving wouldn't be good at all if there was burned food on the table."

"You aren't…going to tell me?" Hiro asked, keeping his voice light and airy.

Callaghan blinked and stopped. He tilted his head again. "Tell you what?"

Hiro shifted a little in his chair. "…Tell me where you work," he said lamely. The piece of information wouldn't be much in the grand scheme of things. He'd much rather have information like…where this address was, or what part of the city they were in. How far away was Hiro's home? But all of those questions were probably much too intrusive. Callaghan would get suspicious right away. But if he tried little by little like this…that would be enough. Right? He could gather more and more information until maybe he could figure something out. Have a better chance of getting out of this whole situation.

When the other didn't reply right away, Hiro added for good measure: "…It interests me."

"Hm." Callaghan seemed to think over this for a moment. Hiro watched, his stomach a hard knot as he waited for a reaction. Anything would be better than nothing, wouldn't it? He replied after a moment of thought, smiling once again. "I'm a teacher, Hiro," he said brightly. "I teach young people about robotics. What else would I do? You know me."

Hiro kept up his smile. His hands were still turning over and over in his lap. Quietly, knowing full well that he was pushing his luck, he asked further: "Where do you teach, then?" Was it an elementary school? Was it a high school? Was it a college? Each varying stage could mean worlds of difference, if he ever tried to do anything. Though, he wasn't sure what 'anything' entailed at this point. All he knew was that the days felt like layers stacking themselves on top of him. The more time passed, the more he felt crushed— the more he couldn't breathe. He had to be thinking of a way out. He had to— otherwise he would go insane. "What grade?"

Callaghan just smiled. He held Hiro's gaze for a few silent moments, in which Hiro had to make a conscious effort to stay still and look only mildly interested. It stretched on for a while, and Hiro started to grow nervous. He couldn't manage to keep in such an aloof manner for very much longer. However Callaghan spoke after this hesitation. "I have to finish cooking, Hiro. I'll be back soon."

Hiro's face fell at the subtle rejection. He blinked, opening his mouth as if he was about to try and explain himself. A dull thought as it was, considering there wasn't much he could be blamed for anyway. He could just blame it on random interest, though he was sure that both he and Callaghan knew that Hiro wasn't prone to that— not here. Or at least he never showed the inclination. He could blame it on just warming up, but after selling it this far, he wasn't sure how much longer he could go on.

Thankfully, he didn't need to. Before he could get out a single syllable, Callaghan had already turned and went back into the kitchen. The door swung shut behind him, and Hiro found himself alone once more, silence filling in the room and providing isolated company to Hiro, who was still tied back to the chair by his leg. He blinked, looking down at the ground with a heavy expression. He reached up and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes with a grimace. A frustrated noise started up in the back of his throat.

 _What did you expect?_ he asked himself. _It was a dumb effort. Where did you even think was going to go, huh? Getting out of here isn't going to be simple. All you did was probably make it seem like you're up to something. Way to go, Genius. You really hit the ball out of the park, didn't you? It's way into the stands, now. The crowd is cheering, and you're standing there like an idiot._

He whined, rubbing at his eyes before dropping his arms in defeat. He stared off distractedly, his shoulders hunching in something akin to pain. He could have just screwed up. Majorly.

He relapsed back into his previous efforts. He tried to distract himself. From wishing he could go home; from wanting to curl up in a ball and forget everything else around him; from feeling the tight grip of the chain around his ankle.

 _When you die, your hair still grows for a couple of months. There are ten human body parts that are only three letters long. The king of hearts is the only king without a mustache. Every year about 98% of the atoms in your body are replaced…_

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It was a few hours later. There was a plate of untouched food in front of Hiro; while he had tried to mess with its contents and try to make it appear eaten before, he had given up on the prospect a long time ago. There wasn't much point anymore. Before, Callaghan had tried to be engaging and forceful— he'd urged Hiro to eat and take part in a conversation that the boy wasn't even paying attention to or could recall the details of.

But that was at the start of the dinner. Now ages had passed. It had gotten dark outside, and Hiro was growing sore from sitting in the same position for so long. Callaghan had been drinking. Now, Hiro was only a fourteen-year-old kid; he wasn't too educated on the idea of alcohol, other than the fact that it tasted disgusting, and he was ninety-nine percent sure that all adults were in on some kind of conspiracy to make it seem good. But even he was pretty sure he knew when there was such a thing as 'too much alcohol.' He was thinking it was after about a few glasses of wine.

Callaghan was on his sixth— Hiro had been counting.

If he was nervous before about his captor's character, he was even more so now. He'd given up on trying to make his food appear eaten, withdrawing instead to watch Callaghan out of the corner of his eye, biting down on his lower lip. Callaghan was talking still; he'd been doing so ever since he sat down. Though the speech had just gotten worse and worse the more glasses of wine he ingested. Now he was on some other tangent— the conversation wasn't even flowing or pertinent anymore. To be honest, Hiro hadn't been able to focus away from his apprehension in order to keep track of it all.

"And then once it starts getting warmer, we can go on some walks," Callaghan was in the middle of saying. Hiro was studying the wood of the table, his expression heavy and his eyebrows knitted. He didn't reply; Callaghan had stopped looking for responses, though. "Not in the backyard, though— I know this nice little forest path that hardly anyone goes to. We could probably go there and be alone for quite some time." He repeated himself, a habit that was slowly becoming more and more apparent. "Hardly anyone goes to it. It'd be a perfect place for us to go on walks." He broke into a fit of giggles, rousing Hiro enough for the boy to glance up with a frown. Lowly, he added, almost to himself: "Or a good place for other things."

Hiro folded away a little bit, his expression clouding over as Callaghan fell into more laughter. Whatever he meant in respect to that, it seemed to crack him up. His captor took another long drink, and Hiro was struggling to get himself to relax again. He caught his lower lip beginning to tremble, and he cleared his throat enough to raise his voice into a shaking mumble. "I want to go to bed," he announced, his hands moving to clench his knees tightly.

Callaghan perked. "What was that, Hiro?" he asked.

He swallowed hard, but got himself to repeat the request. "I said I want to go to bed. If you could…unlock me? I'm just really tired, and I just really want to go to bed right now." His eyes went over to the now-empty sixth glass. He had no idea what to expect, but upon regarding history, he was automatically anxious. With Callaghan being the way he had been, Hiro was cautious— what would six glasses of wine do to make that even worse? He wanted to leave. But he couldn't. Not with this stupid thing around his ankle. Anxious enough, he went so far as to add: "…please."

Callaghan's reply came as predicted, and Hiro tried not to show his growing frustration too much. "You can't leave yet, Hiro; it's Thanksgiving!" Hiro bit down on his lower lip and tried to nod along. He looked for a means of getting out, but it was pointless— he knew that much. Panic was slowly beginning to fizzle into life underneath his skin, and he started to focus on breathing in and out evenly. If he kept his breathing under control, then maybe he could keep himself from completely breaking down. It was fine, he told himself. So far everything was fine. Or— as _fine_ as it could get by now, he should say. "You still haven't said what you're thankful for this year," Callaghan moved to remind him. Hiro closed one of his eyes in a wince, and he did not speak. Still, the other pressed: "It's a part of the day, Hiro. You've got to share."

Hiro stayed quiet. He closed his eyes tightly, his lower lip shaking all over again.

Callaghan must not have noticed his growing fright. He just pressed again: "Hiro, share! I'm all ears. I'll always be all ears for you."

Hiro inhaled sharply, the breath hitching in his throat. When he spoke next, his voice was much thicker and quieter than it usually was. "I don't…" He wracked his brain, trying to get it to work. He had to come up with something, didn't he? _You're fine,_ he tried to tell himself. _You're completely fine. He hasn't even touched you yet. You're fine. Stop getting worked up over nothing, okay? Calm down— chill out. You won't be able to keep yourself sane if you keep on this way…_

But despite however hard he tried to force himself to take a step back, he was shot down. The other half of him, the half that was slowly unraveling and beginning to take over more and more each day, was more distracting. _It's been more than a week,_ that half stressed, unable to be stopped. _More than a week. How do I get out of here? More than a week…there's no way out. I'm going to be stuck here…stuck here and wasting away…he won't let me leave…where are Aunt Cass and Tadashi? Why haven't they come to find me, yet?_

A pained noise leaked from his tightly-closed mouth. He reached up to bury his face in his hands, his expression folding and crumpling as he found that he couldn't hold himself back from a sob. Callaghan instantly straightened with the reaction, turning and starting to get up to his feet. Catching the sign, and feeling his chest tighten even more, Hiro tried to recover himself as best he could. Just the thought of having him come closer was enough to curb his stomach. "N-No, I just— I'm fine, please don't—"

Callaghan wasn't inclined to listen apparently. He rounded the table and veered for Hiro, his steps rushed but noticeably less coordinated. Hiro's throat swelled, and he tried to object again. But the effort was just as pointless as when he had tried to get out of the chain. Callaghan pulled out Hiro's chair, moving him so that he could put his hands on either of his shoulders. He bent down low so that he could look at Hiro's face. He would have rather met his gaze head-on, but the boy's eyes were remaining tightly closed. "Hiro?" he asked, Hiro's stomach dropping as he recognized how slurred his syllables seemed to be. "Hiro, what's the matter?"

Hiro tried to lean out of his grip as inconspicuously as he could. But his hold was too tight to do anything of the sort. He was stuck. Again. When was he not, anymore? He shook his head, trying to clear it. "I just…" He was grasping for something to say— it was suddenly much harder to accomplish than it probably should have been. He finished lamely, spitting out the first thing he could bring to mind. "I don't have anything," he whimpered eventually. He opened his eyes, however reluctantly, and looked up to Callaghan with an injured expression. His hands were shaking in his lap by now. His voice was just as quiet as he whispered: "I don't have anything to be thankful for."

Callaghan's face fell briefly, almost in a sense of confusion at first. Hiro sat in silence, not even daring to breathe as he just stared at his captor. He was afraid that such a confession would be too much, and cause the other to snap. It would happen— Hiro was sure of it. The waiting was part of the reason he was coming so undone. But to Hiro's surprise, and ever-growing stress, Callaghan just smiled. He tilted his head to the side and looked over Hiro with something akin to humor. Hiro just stared back, tears marring his fearful expression. "Come now, Hiro," he said brightly. "Of course you do!"

Hiro didn't say anything, starting to lose his grip on his steady in-and-out breathing.

Callaghan's grin widened, silently encouraging the boy to respond. He raised his eyebrows, when the silence stretched on. "Hiro, don't be sad!" Hiro flinched again and started to duck his head— all he wanted to do was hide away his face. But Robert was not about to let him do such a thing. He leaned over before Hiro could fold away, grabbing at his chin and forcing it back up. "No, no, no!" he shushed, his voice turning gentle and almost consoling. "It's alright! Look at me, look at me. You're alright; don't worry." Hiro was shaking from head to toe now, but he could do nothing but listen and obey. Callaghan smiled. "You know that you can be thankful for something!"

Hiro sniffed pathetically. His eyes flickered down to look at the floor.

Callaghan's smile began to drop. He leaned down even more, forcing Hiro to meet his gaze. "Hiro, you're smarter than this!" he prompted. "You don't need me to tell you, do you?" Still Hiro was mute. He just stared off to the side, his jaw locked backwards and his face growing warm underneath his flow of tears. Callaghan cleared his throat, the man beginning to grow impatient. The thought slammed into Hiro's gut, but he managed to brace himself against it. "Hiro. You can be thankful for this! For _us_! For everything that's going to happen from this point on!"

Hiro whimpered. He hunched his shoulders, and for a second, he was debating on just going with it. It was the safer thing to do— it was probably the _smarter_ thing to do, really. Had he any sense, he would have just nodded his head and smiled. But something kept him from it. Maybe stupidity, maybe pride. Regardless of it, he shook his head. He inhaled sharply and closed his eyes again. "No," he sobbed out, sniffing hard and reached up to wipe at his eyes. "No, I can't. I can't, I can't." His voice was shaking just as much as he was now. He tried get his shoulders out of Callaghan's reach. To no avail. "I just want to go home. That's all I want…it's all I want. Please…please just let me go home."

"Hey, hey, hey, hey…you _are_ home!" Callaghan reached out, drawing his hand through Hiro's hair in what was probably supposed to be a comforting gesture. He brought up his other hand to press it against the side of Hiro's face, providing solace, but at the same time forcing Hiro to keep looking at him. Hiro mewled, completely losing control of his breathing the second he was touched. He wanted to get up, he wanted to run away. He would be willing to claw off his own leg, if only he could crawl out of here. "Shhh…don't cry, Hiro, don't cry," Callaghan soothed. "You can be thankful for this— you can. I want to hear you say it."

 _Take it back. He's giving you a chance. Just agree. Agree with him!_

"I can't!" Hiro yelled, nearly spitting out the words. "I can't say it! I just—"

He was interrupted before his plea could finish. "Hiro." Callaghan's voice was turning stony, and Hiro realized that his expression was following suit. "Just say it," he said, the words coming across as more of an order than an inspiration now. "Say that you're thankful; I know you are, however much you try and make it seem like you're not. So go on— you can say it now."

Hiro refused. He just sniffed again, feeling like someone was stabbing him in the chest. He didn't look at him.

Again, the smarter side of himself was screaming obscenities. But he was keeping deaf.

Callaghan's voice was flat now. "Hiro. I want you to say it."

The boy cringed, starting to duck away. But as soon as he started to lean back in his chair, Callaghan's hand, still fast in his hair, suddenly wrenched into a tight fist. Pain immediately split through him entirely, and the boy jerked, inhaling sharply at the unexpected agony. Before he could cry out, and almost before he could really realize what was happening, Callaghan turned to slam the boy's head down on the table. The dull thud rattled in his skull and shook it to the core. His vision exploded in white, and absolute agony wrapped around him.

He was winded at first, just heaving as he tried to gasp in as much air as he could. Tears built faster in his eyes, streaming down his face now without a single pause. Blinded by pain, Hiro started to do the only thing he could at the moment— scream and cry. But before he could, Callaghan seemed to register the wish. He used the hand that was not clenched in Hiro's hair and slammed it down over his mouth. It effectively muffled the screeches of pain before they could even begin to exist. Regardless of the fact that he could not be heard, Hiro was desperate to release his pain in any way that he could. So he just screamed into his captor's palm, his eyes squeezing shut tightly as more tears were forced out.

His head spun. He couldn't tell up from down. His stomach curled, and he felt like he was going to be sick. His senses were muffled underneath the blow, but Callaghan was close enough, and spoke slow enough, for Hiro to make sense of his words. "Hiro, I am a continuously patient person. But you are making all of this _very_ hard to do."

Hiro only sobbed, his body heaving. It felt like nails were being driven straight into his head.

"Why would you want to go back there?" Callaghan asked, his voice laced with venom. Hiro couldn't reply, already just struggling to gather himself back up. So he went on anyway, his voice still slurred and sloppier than usual. "They don't care about you like I do! If they loved you, don't you think they would be looking for you?" Hiro choked, blinking rapidly to try and clear his vision. "They don't care that you're gone! They would rather you never come back home. What kind of family is that, Hiro? If you left, I would spend the rest of my life trying to get you back!" Hiro broke down at this, shivering as he tried to let out another shriek. But Robert's hand still bottled the shout back. "They don't care about you— why should you care about them?!"

He loved them. He wanted to go back because he loved them and he missed them. He wanted Aunt Cass to hold him and make him feel safe, and he wanted Tadashi to ruffle his hair and call him a knucklehead. He wanted to cuddle up with Mochi, and he wanted to just feel _okay_ again. He didn't want to be here. Hurting and hating and second-guessing even himself.

Callaghan's words felt like a knife through his heart. It wasn't true. They _were_ looking for him. They _were_.

… _Right?_

There was silence for a long moment. Hiro suffered through his newfound agony, trying to remember how to breathe correctly. Callaghan just kept his head planted to the table and his mouth covered. Eventually he spoke, his words coming through gritted teeth. "You wanted to know where I work?" he asked, his grip in Hiro's hair increasing even more. Hiro yelped, going into a spasm. But he didn't dare try anything. He couldn't even bring himself to bite down on his hand— he was just frozen in place.

Callaghan took the silence as a reply in itself. He bent down a little lower, making sure that Hiro's head was flush against the wood. "I'm a teacher," he repeated, Hiro fighting the urge to curl away as his voice snaked down to his ear. "I teach at San Fransokyo Institute of Technology." The name instantly clicked with Hiro. Not only as the place that he had heard Abigail flaunt in her home video, but more importantly, as the place where his brother went.

Every. Day.

In his laps, his hands clenched, his nails digging deep into his palms. He began to hyperventilate, trying to wrench himself free with no success. Callaghan only held him tighter with the struggles. Still having a vice in the boy's hair, he lifted his head just to slam it back down again. He scattered whatever brains Hiro had managed to gather again. The boy fell completely still, his eyes wide and foggy as he was forced back into shock from a secondary blow. "I guess you don't have to be told what that means," Robert hissed.

Hiro didn't even blink. His gaze was almost hollow as tears continued to collect on the dining table.

Callaghan went even closer. Looking for a reaction, he gave a sharp tug on Hiro's hair, which was still much shorter after its cut. The boy squeaked immediately, a sharp gasp eliciting in response to the pull. "Tadashi Hamada is one of my students," Robert elaborated. "A bright boy— not as smart as you, but he's a close second." Hiro's forehead creased and he bit back anther scream. "I see him quite a lot, Hiro. I take every single opportunity I can to have a conversation with him.

"He's very hardworking. Even now. He finishes all of his work before class is even released, sometimes. Not distracted at all. And I see him with his friends all the time— hanging out…having fun." He offered a dramatic frown that was clearly not meant to express remorse or guilt. No; instead, it was menacing. It was mean, and cruel. "It's almost like…nothing's changed," he said, mimicking thought. "Isn't that a little weird? Because…going off the way you're acting…you would think that he would feel upset that you're not home."

Hiro flinched, giving out a heartbreaking sob.

Callaghan leaned down even closer, his voice curling in rage now as he was less than an inch from Hiro's ear. "He doesn't care about you," he snarled. "Neither does your aunt. They both could care less where you are; they're not trying to find you at all. Don't you get it? You might as well be dead to them, by the way they're acting."

Hiro whined pathetically. It wasn't true. It wasn't true, it wasn't true, it wasn't true. It couldn't be. They were looking for him. They were upset, they were just as broken up as he was. They thought about him just like he thought about them. They needed him too. They wouldn't ever just cast him aside.

He told himself all of this in a straightforward manner. It was elementary.

But it didn't stop him from falling into another pit of panic. He broke down again, whatever walls he had managed to salvage crumbling down immediately. Like a pitiful child, he broke down into uncontrollable sobs. It was like an eggshell cracking— he couldn't keep the yolk from spilling everywhere. He just shattered. And by this point he wasn't going to even try and fix it. Rather, Hiro just drowned in it. He choked and gagged, his arms going around his stomach in a painful manner.

This seemed to jar Robert out of whatever lull his mind had been put in. He straightened, standing back up almost out of surprise. He let go of Hiro's hair, the painful prickling in his head subsiding at least in magnitude. But it certainly lingered, even when the man pulled back. "Oh, Hiro…I know," Robert cooed gently, moving so that he could wrap his arms around Hiro instead, pulling him up off the table and back into an upright position. He forced Hiro to turn and face him, the chain scraping against the furniture in the process. "I know it hurts now, I know. The truth can hurt sometimes, can't it?" He held one side of Hiro's face, rubbing his thumb soothingly across his cheek. Hiro continued to seize and cry in an inconsolable fashion. "But the pain will go away. I promise. I'll make the pain go away. I'll make all the pain go away…"

Hiro couldn't even look at him. He kept his eyes shut, barely managing to cry without sound.

Callaghan leaned over, pulling Hiro close into an embrace. He held him bracingly, as if he was taking all of Hiro's pieces and trying to push them back together. He started to rock him gently, Hiro feeling one of Robert's hands start to make reassuring circles on his back. The boy's head was forced to rest on his captor's shoulders. He tried to ignore the stench of wine, and that fact that he was so close to Callaghan in general. His stomach was in knots, and amid his cries, he had to force himself not to succumb and get sick on the spot.

"It's alright. I know. I know it hurts now. But it'll go away," Callaghan whispered, changing to take his hand and stroke it through Hiro's hair. He ignored the way that Hiro tensed and hissed at the contact against his new sore spot. "But it's alright. Because I'm here. I've got you. And _I_ love you. I do. I care about you, and I'll keep you close. You don't need them anymore. We've got each other."

Absolute silence followed this.

Ages seemed to pass.

Callaghan turned, planting a kiss on top of Hiro's head, near the spot he had grabbed in order to slam him to the table. Hiro flinched, his teeth gritting so hard that they ached. Robert only hummed in happiness.

"Hiro?" he asked eventually, breaking the quiet.

There was another delay. "…what?" Hiro's voice was a dull rasp, devoid of…anything at all.

The question should have been foreseen. "What are you thankful for, today?"

Hiro cringed, as if the inquiry was yet another blow. Fresh tears welled up to sting at his eyes. He choked back another swallow. He thought of all the times that Tadashi had swooped him up, swinging him around until Hiro was shrieking to be let down. How many times he used to crawl into his older brother's bed whenever he had a bad dream as a little kid. Or the nights that Aunt Cass had tried to teach him how to cook only to have it end rather badly. Or all the hugs he had given her before rushing out the door. All of the memories he had with them.

He shattered again. But this time he was resolute. Despite the fact that his head was pulsating, and his eyes were burning, and he felt like he was being stabbed, he forced himself to reply. He could not help the fact that his voice was constricted— that ship had long since sailed. But at least he got something out. Something he probably should have gotten out in the first place. It would have saved him so much trouble…

He didn't have a lot of dignity left. So saying it wasn't as hard as he thought it would be.

That was probably a bad thing.

"…I'm thankful for you," he whispered listlessly, his expression empty as the words passed his lips.

A sound of joy came from Callaghan with the reply. His arms wound even more around Hiro, and he began to ramble out of ecstasy. "I know you are, I know," he cooed, sounding far too happy— far too excited. "I love you so much. You're perfect; _we'll_ be perfect. We will. I promise. You won't even remember those awful people. I'll be right here for you, I swear. I'll never leave…"

Robert went on. Hiro wasn't listening. He just tried to keep as quiet as possible, staring off into space with an empty expression. He didn't try to wipe at his burning eyes or brush away the sticking tears from his cheeks. There wasn't a point in fixing something that would just get even worse. Just like there wasn't a point to stick up to Callaghan. This was all it got him. Pain and heartache. Fighting against the chains…trying to talk back…all so stupid. So idiotic.

So…hopeless.

He kept being cradled. Rocked like an infant for ages that stretched on. He lost track of time, and he wasn't about to try and break away. He just sat, limp in Callaghan's arms as he tried to think of Tadashi and Aunt Cass. Not the way that they had been described to him— uncaring and selfish and completely oblivious to where he was. But how he hoped was the truth— kind and concerned and waiting for him to come home. Because that was the truth…wasn't it? It had to be. Otherwise…otherwise he wouldn't know what to do at all.

Hiro didn't know what dying felt like.

Obviously.

But he knew that it had to feel just as painful as this.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: Sorry if the ending is awkward. Like always, any issues with plot I will consider overlooking! It's just that it's nearly ten at night and I have homework and studying for two quizzes tomorrow. I've gone so long without an update and I've been stressed and worried over when the next one would be. I'll be very open to fixing typos and even points if there are issues— I have a bad habit of never really liking what I type lol. Especially when chapters are long like this.

I hope you like it and I hope it's halfway worth the wait! lol

I'm SO excited for the next couple of chapters though! SO excited! :D

I hope you're just as anxious to see what happens next! And I hope to hear from everyone again! Just like before, once reviews come in, I'll make the same kind of effort to get out a chapter. Hopefully it won't be as hard next around though CX


	8. Chapter 8

It was a routine. A lot was these days. He got up, he tried to wriggle out a decent conversation with Aunt Cass, and then he went to school and tried to focus as best he could. It wasn't an easy task; he wouldn't wish it on his worst enemy, if he had one. Everything he did had a sort of…hollowness to it. He was always inevitably reminded of the fact that his brother was still missing. And no matter how many times he remembered it, the idea still hurt just as much every time it came back.

And then from after school, Tadashi moved to trek as much of San Fransokyo as he could. He didn't even go home to drop off his things. The second he was released from his last class, Tadashi slung his backpack over his shoulder and started to walk down any street or block he could. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he knew that he could not just go home and sit by the phone waiting for news to come to him. So he searched for his baby brother, refusing to stop when he came up with nothing, and refusing not to do the same thing the next day.

His friends realized his habit quickly. They expressed concern at first. Wasabi had pointed out that his not coming home immediately after school might be rubbing Aunt Cass the wrong way, with everything going on. Fred had said that they could probably spend his time doing something else that would be better for him— like hanging out watching movies or eating pizza. After a swift blow from Gogo, he had amended himself to say: "Well, I meant that it would be better for you to get _your mind_ off of things."

Despite initial concerns, eventually each one decided that if this was something Tadashi felt like he had to do, then they should not stand in his way. In fact, they helped him. Loyally, they met up with him outside the school each and every day, taking the initiative to keep Aunt Cass posted on where they were, so that the woman would not become overwhelmed with fear and stress. And as a group they went along to look for Hiro, or to even put up more posters announcing his disappearance. It was a routine, but one that they were more than willing to go through. Not only for Aunt Cass and Tadashi, but for Hiro as well.

It led them to have evenings like these, walking down a street of their crowded city for hours on end, as it grew darker around them. Honey Lemon had a huge Chemistry test the next day— one that would count for more than half her grade, and she still had so much studying to do. However, she was not planning on giving up today's search until Tadashi threw in the towel first. She just walked long dutifully, trying to distract her friend with trivial conversation.

"And…have you put up your Christmas tree yet? It's getting really close," she asked, turning and looking over at Tadashi with a small grin. "You guys always have the best tree. And the best decorations for the café, too. I love going there in the winter time."

Tadashi offered her a smile. "No, no, we haven't…we haven't set up anything. Not yet." he replied.

She remained bright. She had to— she didn't have much other choice. If she didn't stay bubbly, then who would? "Well, if you need any help, I would be glad to come over and string some lights. I'm probably not as good as you guys— I always just get one of those little pre-decorated trees to put on my bedside table. That's pretty much as far as I go." She glanced at him and blinked once. "Maybe this weekend you can start," she offered. "I'm sure Aunt Cass would like that."

He nodded. "Yeah, that seems like a good idea." Despite the words, Honey Lemon realized that there wasn't a lot of feeling behind the words. She felt a small twinge of pity for her friend. It was clear that the two of them probably didn't want to decorate the house for Christmas without Hiro there to help, like he always did. They were upset enough at Thanksgiving, even when they were forcing themselves to talk during dinner. She couldn't imagine what it would be like if Hiro wasn't found before a holiday as big as Christmas.

Her smile turned a bit more sympathetic. She leaned over and let her hand rest on her friend's shoulder briefly. But she didn't push even more and try to say anything. Tadashi turned and flashed her a grateful look, and she smiled gently before turning to the others. Gogo was walking on Tadashi's other side, her hands shoved into her pockets as she looked from one end of the street to the other. Wasabi and Fred were walking behind them, since there wasn't enough room for all of them in a line. They were talking about something in hushed mutters; she wasn't sure what they were discussing, it was so quiet.

"Anything?" she asked. They all replied with shakes of their heads. She looked down to her load she was juggling in her arms— the extra posters they had printed off today in the library and had planned to put up in any vacant places. "You want to put these up?" she asked. "I see a few popular places around here. People could maybe see it more. Word could spread faster."

"It's not an issue of spreading— if people don't know about Hiro now, they're under a rock."

The objection was cold and harsh. It surprised Honey Lemon. More so because of the fact that it was Tadashi who had said it. She was surprised, blinking as she perked. She turned to her friend with a discontented expression. He had come to a stop, the rest of the group being delated in following suit. He was staring off to the side— in following his gaze, Honey Lemon could see that he was staring at a busy-looking ice cream shop. People were coming and going; for an afternoon, it seemed packed.

Honey Lemon's eyebrows pulled together. She turned back to Tadashi, confused. "What was that?" she asked slowly. "Did you…I thought that we came out here to do this?"

Gogo seemed just as bemused. She leaned over, studying Tadashi intently. "What's going on?" she asked, looking a tad bit worried when her friend didn't even blink at her words. He just continued to stare at the ice cream store, looking as if he was trying to memorize each and every family that left the shop, or every mother and daughter or father and son. Even friends that were skipping away, holding their ice cream cones tightly and trying not to let them drip. When he still did not say anything, Gogo pressed a little bit further: "Tadashi? What's wrong?"

"That was Hiro's favorite place to go, sometimes," Tadashi mumbled softly after a pause. The others' faces fell, but they didn't try and interject for him. Tadashi blinked, his expression slowly growing heavier as he stared emptily ahead. "I took him here all the time. I took him here when he won the Science Fair…when he skipped grades…when he graduated high school…sometimes even for no reason at all. He just loved going there."

There was a heavy pause of silence. Nobody was brave enough to try and interrupt their friend. To ask him what he was talking about, and why it was important enough to sidetrack them from looking for Hiro. There had to be a reason for it, right? Or maybe it was just because Tadashi was already sad enough; they weren't about to shut him up from talking about his brother, who he had not seen for going on three weeks now. It had been almost a month.

Tadashi cleared his throat, as if he was worried that his voice could become too congested to be heard clearly. "I just…it feels like I haven't been there with him in years. Even though it's just been…" He trailed off, his face falling even more. He blinked, and Honey Lemon watched in sorrow as his expression started to cloud over in something close to a sense of anger. "You think they would notice…"

"Notice?" Wasabi asked. He looked from the store to his friend. "…Notice what?"

"That he's not there," Tadashi growled. At his sides, his hands began to clench in and out tightly. "They knew us there by name— we went all the time. Hiro never really liked to socialize, but he always did with the people who worked there. And now…it's like it didn't even matter. People are still coming and going. They don't look bothered. Nobody does." His eyes narrowed into slits. "All these posters...the mentions of him on the news…and not a single person looks upset. It's like nothing has changed. It's wrong. It's not right. People shouldn't be this uncaring."

"It's not that they're uncaring, Tadashi," Wasabi refuted, trying desperately to make him feel better without upsetting him even more. "It's just…a weird situation, you know? I'm sure that the people there know that it's Hiro that's gone. But…you just gotta know that in some cases, life just has to go on, right? It can't stop, no matter how much it feels like it should." He frowned, taking a small step closer. "Hiro is gone, and it's really hard on you and Aunt Cass. But the world can't stop."

"It doesn't have to stop!" Tadashi snapped, though it was clear that he wasn't trying specifically to be mean. "It just…there should be _something_! _Some_ kind of sign that he's being missed!" Wasabi withdrew slightly at the retort, all the words he'd been building on his tongue falling short now. Gogo wilted as well, and Fred grimaced as he looked down at the ground. Tadashi reached up and drew his hands messily through his hair. "When someone disappears…when something happens to someone, the world should _notice_. People should _notice_. There should be _something_."

"There is," Honey Lemon reassured quickly. "There are posters. And the news is trying to cover as much of his story as possible with what they have. People have to know what's going on. They're going to pay attention. It might not be as much as you want. I know that you and Aunt Cass would want more— _we_ want more, too. But for now, we have to work with what we're given."

Tadashi didn't seem satisfied with this at all. Fred piped up to try and help. " _We_ notice, Tadashi," he reassured him quickly. The other perked, breaking his eye contact with the shop and turning over to his friend with a weak smile. Fred waved his hand dismissively at the people milling around them. "Don't worry about anyone else. They'll catch up, don't worry. Right now, you've got all the support that matters. We know Hiro's gone, man. And we're going to keep on trying to help you find him. He won't be able to hide away for much longer. I believe that."

Tadashi grinned.

Fred didn't seem to find this satisfying, either, though. "Don't _you_?" he prompted softly.

There was a long beat of hesitation. He stared blankly for a few more moments that seemed to stretch into minutes, or even hours. Eventually he grinned tiredly, giving a small nod. "Of course," he said. "Yeah. I appreciate everything you guys have done; really, I do. I don't know where I'd be if you guys weren't helping me along. And— Hiro will appreciate it too. When we…when we find him. Or…when he just…comes home."

"And he will," Gogo asserted. "There's no chance that he won't get back home, Tadashi. Absolutely none."

Similar reassurances floated up from the rest of the group. Tadashi was grateful for each one, and Honey Lemon tried to gauge how much it was actually helping him. But she was sure that they were going at least a little good. They had to have. She was relieved when Tadashi smiled— more genuine this time. They managed to recover from the small spell of anger and remorse. They decided that they would go around for one more hour. They would ask around for Hiro more actively and spread the word a little bit better. Then they would go out and have dinner; Fred offered to Aunt Cass to come along to go out, promising that he would pay.

And before they left, they taped a poster of Hiro up on the front door of the ice cream shop.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"You've got to collect two hundred dollars."

"…What?"

"You passed 'Go.' That means you get two hundred more dollars, remember?"

"Oh…right…"

Hiro's eyes flickered up from the board game, turning instead to train on Callaghan and watch as the older man turned to dole out the required payment. They had been playing Monopoly for a day and a half now. They hadn't been able to make any progress to wrap it up. Hiro and Callaghan had the same number of properties, and nearly the same number of hotels too. A couple times, Hiro had tried to pay more money than he needed to by 'accident.' If only to run out of money and lose the game so that it could finally be over. But Callaghan was attentive, and he always caught the effort and corrected it swiftly.

So it had continued like this for about thirty-six hours now.

Hiro was starting to realize that it was getting harder and harder to keep track of the days. To separate when he woke up exactly from when he fell asleep. He felt like it had to be longer than two weeks. Definitely longer. That, or he was just losing his mind, and seconds stretched into hours now. He knew the date of when he was hit by the car— that was November fourteenth. And he knew that Thanksgiving was the last Thursday of the month, which would make it November twenty-seventh.

But in the thick of everything, he wasn't sure when was when. When he woke up, still chained to that bed, he didn't know if it was early morning or late night. Whether he had slept for hours, or minutes. It all blurred by. He couldn't be sure. He wished for nothing more than something to tell him just what date it was— what time it was. Maybe then he could stop worrying over that. He had too many other things to worry about; wondering what day it was or what time it was shouldn't be on the list.

But then again, in knowing the time, he would be able to understand just how long he had been here.

And some part of him was not brave enough to face such a number.

Callaghan handed him the money, and Hiro took it with an obedience that was inspired out of fear. His hands shook slightly as he grabbed hold of the paper. But Callaghan remained oblivious. He just smiled tenderly and watched as Hiro placed the money down with the rest of the color-coded stack. Hiro's hands had been freed to play the board game, but the child's leg was still fastened to the post of the bed. Wise now, Callaghan had charged that they play in Abigail's old room. He wasn't about to bring Hiro back downstairs yet, apparently.

"You've got quite a bank there, Hiro," Callaghan commented brightly. Hiro didn't reply, not even looking up. "You might just win this game." The words were bright and encouraging, as if they were remotely supposed to mean something. Hiro almost felt a sense of anger at the words, and if Callaghan had said such a thing a few weeks ago, Hiro probably would have flashed back with a stinging retort. But now he kept his mouth shut— he knew better than to pick a fight over this. He just gave a sullen nod, reaching up and pushing his stupid bangs out of his eyes.

Callaghan seemed disappointed at the lack of reaction. His face fell, and he cleared his throat a little bit. Hiro stiffened slightly, but still didn't look up to meet his gaze. He just stared down dimly, his expression deflated as he turned to look at his properties instead. As if he was suddenly interested in his holdings, when before now, he could hardly care less. He hadn't even realized that he had what he did. He had _Boardwalk_? When the heck did he get Boardwalk? And why wasn't he putting any hotels on it?

No wonder no one was winning this stupid game.

"Hiro, I was thinking sometime soon, we should start decorating for Christmas," Callaghan said. Hiro still didn't look up, and it was a good thing he didn't. His expression wavered, a sense of deep sorrow clouding over his features at the reminder that Christmas was coming up— that he was going to spend the holiday here, and that so much time had passed. He bit down on his lower lip, consoling himself as he was already giving himself a warning to shut up. Last time he hadn't listened to such an order, he'd gotten his head run into a table. Gradually, he was becoming more accustomed to listening to the given advice.

Callaghan went on, not noticing Hiro's reaction. He seemed too intent on daydreaming than doing anything of the sort. "We need to set up the tree, and then decorate it. I've got quite a lot of ornaments to choose from. Some of them were made from Abigail— you know how Kindergarten classes and so on love to have the kids make little crafts to hang up." His expression went wistful, as did his voice, which got a tad softer. Hiro glanced at him quickly to see that he was staring off into space, picturing something that Hiro couldn't make sense of. But he was quickly roused from it. He turned and caught sight of Hiro before the boy could look away, and he grinned.

"I have an idea!" he declared. Hiro looked back down at the ground, but he held back any reactionary groans or grimaces that were building up inside him. Again, they would go him no good. He just tried to concentrate on his properties. Trivial distractions weren't the most mature thing, but he wasn't going for mature at this point. He was just going for what would keep him the sanest. "How about we have some arts and crafts for you one day?" He paused, as if waiting for Hiro to say something. He didn't, so Callaghan went on to explain better. "You can make ornaments for the tree too! One for every year that you're here! One for every Christmas that we spend together!"

The way he said it made it sound like Hiro would be stupid not to take such an offer. It almost sounded like he was handing Hiro a million dollars, by the sound of it. But all Hiro could do was try and choke back a swallow of terror. The mere notion that he would make more than one ornament – that he would be here for more than one Christmas – was terrifying. Was Callaghan so certain that he could keep this up for longer than a few more days? Or weeks, at the most? Surely he couldn't! Someone had to be on Hiro's trail! Someone had to be growing wise to what was going on here! Right? He couldn't possibly be here for that long…he couldn't _possibly!_

 _Right!?_

"Hiro?" Callaghan prompted. He leaned forward a little bit, and Hiro had to make a conscious effort not to lean back and right the distance in between them. His skin crawled at the tone of voice that Callaghan was using— that sense of concern and worry that every parent harbored in their voice when their child was doing something confusing or against their wishes. How could he sound like a worried father in one breath, and then turn to deliver a swift punch to Hiro in the next?

The other day, Callaghan had mentioned that Abigail loved to go out on walks when it was nice out. Hiro, in yet another perfect display of idiocy, had replied that he did not like to go outside; he was more of an indoor person. The innocent-enough comment earned him a surprise blow to the back of the head. A blow that scattered his brain for a second and caused him to fall over in shock. He hadn't even meant anything by the comment; he'd just been trying to land on something he could say that was halfway decent, and that was what he landed on. Yet no sooner had Callaghan knocked him to the floor did he grab the boy up and try to comfort him— reassuring him that it was alright, and that he would be okay.

It left Hiro never sure on what to do to keep himself safe. Most of the time, he was convinced there was _no_ possible way to come out unscathed.

So Callaghan prompted again once he was just met with the child's silence. "Hiro? Won't that be fun? And then we can hang it up with the rest and decorate the house. Set up lights and make everything look absolutely cheery?" As if he was trying to make the other feel better, he added on: "I would certainly love to make your first Christmas here one of your best. And I know that I can do it. We could bake cookies and make hot chocolate and sit by the fire. So…what do you say? Would you like to start that?"

He was looking at Hiro almost desperately. The tone in his voice was one that was seeking some sort of approval, or some kind of gratification. He was looking for Hiro to smile or brighten or nod his head eagerly. He was looking for a sign that would show that Hiro would love him and approve of his actions. Such a desire had been growing and accumulating with each passing day.

But, unsurprisingly, Hiro could not will himself into such a mood. He was sad and despondent. Even now, sitting on the other side of the Monopoly board, his eyes were dull and lackluster. His face was hindered in hints of sorrow, and nearly every time he moved, a small gasp or whimper of pain was elicited from him. His back and his leg were still bad— if not entirely worse. And after being abused over and over again, so many times, his head was almost always throbbing and pulsating in waves of agony. He felt like he was sick day in and day out, though he knew it was most likely just the weight of all of his injuries coming to a boil. He needed medical attention. But more than anything, he just knew that he needed his family. He needed his old life back. He needed out of this situation.

 _Smile at him. Just play into his hands; what other choice do you possibly have? Try not to be the world's biggest idiot for like five minutes please? You haven't gotten hit today. Can we please keep that streak going?_ The smarter part of himself was adamant, and Hiro found that, despite the fact that it turned his stomach to do so, he could not argue with the logic. Today had been good so far, and it was only because Hiro had not spoken. He could ruin it all with one of his stupid retorts. No. Despite everything in his that was screeching to do the opposite, he had to give in.

He tried a smile in Callaghan's direction. But the effort was pitiful even to him. The smile felt weak on his face, and his eyes still held far too much sorrow and fright to have the expression pass off as even halfway believable. His voice came out tinny and quiet as well. "Sure," he mumbled, keeping his words short, for fear of messing up in some other bizarre fashion. He looked back down at the board, trying to ignore the way his heart immediately picked up after he spoke to the man. Hiro was anxious to change focus. If Callaghan wormed out any other conversation from him, then it increased the chance for him to get angry over something stupid. "I think it's your turn," he said instead, going back to the game. The game might be boring, but it was much better to focus on than anything else.

Callaghan blinked. But to Hiro's relief, he did turn back and pick up the dice. They clattered onto the board noisily, and Callaghan grinned in happiness as he rolled a seven. He landed on 'Free Parking' and Hiro watched dully as he gathered up the fat stack of money that had been growing in the center of the board. While Robert was arranging the bills into color-coded stacks, Hiro forced himself to speak up again. And again, he kept his speech short. "Can I…can I ask something?" he rasped, not brave enough to bring his volume above a whisper.

Thankfully, Callaghan was immediately alert. "Of course, Hiro," he said at once, his voice and expression warm as he smiled at the boy. "You can always ask me anything at all. I'll always have an answer for you."

Hiro forced himself not to dwell on the words. He just blinked, staring through the Monopoly board in front of him. "Can you…" He trailed off, his eyebrows pulling together in a sense of confusion. He was trying to find the right words— something that should have been simple, but at this moment, seemed so hard and awkward. Callaghan was patient and merely waited, watching Hiro carefully. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he landed on what he was trying to say. "Can you tell me how many days there are? Until Christmas?" he asked in a shallow mumble.

The reply was instant. "There's just twenty-one days left!"

So it was December fourth, then. If there was just twenty-one left till the twenty-fifth. The information hit him like a blow to the stomach— a sensation he was growing more and more familiar with the longer he was here. That meant that he had been here for twenty-one days. Twenty-one days straight— that was almost a month. It _would_ be a month, in just a short while. Hiro stared down at the ground, his eyes slightly wide. He fell silent, merely registering the newfound fact.

Callaghan tilted his head to the side. "Hiro? Are you alright? Do you feel okay?"

Hiro tried to smile. The expression was chipped and worn, and it shook noticeably like a leaf in the wind. Struggling to keep on distracting himself, using anything he possibly could as a coping mechanism, Hiro leaned over to scoop up the dice. Just like his lips, his hands were trembling violently. His vision blurred over with water, and his throat quickly began to burn, as if he had just swallowed down a mouthful of fire. "Yes," Hiro replied, his voice immediately betraying the words that it was trying its best to sell. "I'm fine. Perfectly…fine."

Twenty-one days. He'd been here already for twenty-one days.

Hiro reached up and wiped at his eyes before any tears could fall.

He rolled the dice and tried to ignore the fact that the dots blurred in front of him.

Nine.

Pick a card.

He did so.

And nearly choked, once he was met with a pristine 'Get Out Of Jail Free' pass.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

The routine was a little bit put off now that he was on Winter Break. Now, Tadashi did not have the luxury of a school day to distract him from what was going on. He figured that he would spend most of the time braving the snow and traverse the city again. It would be the most productive use of his time. Today, however, he and Aunt Cass had decided to set up their Christmas decorations. They had been meaning to get to it for days now, but they always found an excuse to put it all off. Now, they were running out of them. And the Regulars that came to the café all the time were beginning to be concerned over the lack of festivities. It wasn't like the family was well-known for skipping Christmas. They usually went all-out. They celebrated the day so much, they might as well have been shoving tinsel down people's throats as they walked through the door.

So when he came downstairs to see Aunt Cass unpacking all of the Christmas décor, Tadashi felt a small sense of relief that they would actually get to it this time. There couldn't be any more delay. Christmas was just in ten days. Despite everything, they had to at least put up a little something. It didn't help Aunt Cass whenever a customer asked her if she was doing okay, or inquired about the traditional yearly decorations. Trying to take a page from Honey Lemon's book, Tadashi was bright as he said: "Good morning, Aunt Cass."

Aunt Cass jumped in surprise, turning to look back at her nephew, as her back had been turned to him. She grinned at the sight of him, like she did every morning he came downstairs. Tadashi wasn't sure it was happiness at being with him just as it might be relief that he was still here. That at some time during the night, he hadn't vanished into thin air like Hiro had. "Good morning," she chirped, Tadashi surprised at the tone of her voice. She didn't seem stressed or worried like she usually was. She seemed genuinely at-ease for once. "How did you sleep?"

Tadashi walked over, looking at the assortment that had already been laid out. Wreaths and mistletoe and ornaments and pieces of the plastic tree that they always had to stack on top of each other and arrange painstakingly. Hiro always hated the part in putting the tree up. He'd whine and complain that his arms would get scratched up by the plastic fir when they had to separate the branches. But he always recovered brightly once they started decorating it. And he would always demand that he would be the one to put the star up on the tree, despite the fact that he had to get up on Tadashi's shoulders in order to reach the top.

"I slept fine," he replied after a small hesitation. He didn't really— he couldn't, with Hiro's empty bed right beside his own. He was starting to entertain the thought of sleeping on the couch. At least then, he might be able to get the sight of empty covers and bare pillows out of his head. "How about you?" He leaned down, picking up one of the wreaths. They had a lot. One went up on the wall of their kitchen, another went above a table in the café, and another went on their front door for whoever was to come inside. They had to string the tinsel up too. Suddenly, it seemed like the work they did every year was increased tenfold. It seemed like a huge task.

"Oh…you know me," Aunt Cass said cheerily, flashing him a grin. "I don't need much sleep." Tadashi offered a small laugh at this, hoping the reply off as a joke, though he knew that it probably hadn't been intended as such. Thankfully, Aunt Cass did not try and correct him. He didn't know what he would have done if she had. So he cleared his throat before she could change her mind. "Where are we starting, then?" he asked. "Should we decorate the café first? I guess we would have enough time to do that tomorrow, if you…well, if you felt like it. Or I could."

He wasn't sure what they would do tomorrow. Sit around? Stare at the wall? Wait for the phone? Go out and try to do something themselves? There was a reason that they were taking off from the café today and tomorrow. There was a reason they might stay closed the next day, too. Because tomorrow would mark a month that Hiro had been gone. And today was just the preface— if they did not have so much work to do on the house, they would have been suffering underneath the weight of what it all meant. They would not have been able to even breathe underneath the fact that it had already been a month. One long, torturous, worried month. And it still wasn't even over.

Aunt Cass wilted slightly at Tadashi's subtle hint. She cleared her throat, looking down and starting to arrange the ornaments by color code, though the effort wasn't needed at all. "We'll just see how much we can get done today," she said softly. "Then we can go from there. There's no sense planning things until we know for sure." The words came out in the form of a small sigh. Tadashi felt a twinge of worry, and turned to look up at her with worry. But she seemed to move on quickly— or, quicker than she would have when this whole thing started. They were getting better at it, Tadashi realized. They were getting better at handling all of this grief and this sorrow.

Was that a good thing? Or was it the complete opposite?

He did not want to delve into such thought. If he did so, especially today, he might not be able to drag himself out of the pit that panic and worry could suddenly develop into. So he just buckled down and picked up the nearest wreath, deciding that he might as well get started. "I'll hang these up," he said, trying to shove off his worries and grin instead. "Then I'll do the tinsel. You can do the mistletoe, if you want. But maybe not anywhere Mrs. Matsuda can see. We don't want a repeat of last year," he teased. And to his relief, this actually got a response from Aunt Cass, who laughed at the memory.

They split up to their respective jobs. Usually, they would turn on Christmas music and talk about anything and everything when they decorated. Tadashi would talk about his Finals and how those went, and Hiro would occasionally snore or yawn pointedly to express his disinterest in something as boring as school. Aunt Cass would talk about all the food she was planning to make for Christmas, and then she would rattle of ideas of what they could do next time it snowed. Now, the house was quiet. The only sound was of their footsteps and the work that they were doing on their own.

Tadashi ended up doing the café, while Aunt Cass did the upstairs portion of their home. It wasn't planned that way, but it's just what ended up transpiring. But at least then, Tadashi didn't have to pretend to smile. As he hung up the wreaths, wrapped tinsel in a border around the room, put up little snowman figures, and so on, his expression was heavy and sad.

It felt wrong, doing this without Hiro. The whole thing was weird; he didn't like it. He wondered what Hiro was doing right now. Was he safe, where he was? Oftentimes, Hiro tried to think of what he could possibly be doing, or where he went. Maybe he went off to some Robotics Convention that was just taking forever to end. He was learning a bunch of new things and when he would come back, he'd eye Tadashi and Aunt Cass as if they were dumb and ask: "What's your guys' problem? I said I'd be right back!" Or maybe he was just on some harebrained travelling thing, where he'd go as far as he possibly could, just to say that he did, or just to learn about what was beyond San Franksokyo. Then they would get a call at about four in the morning one day and Hiro would be on the other end to say simply: "Well, I've gone as far as I can. Come pick me up."

Tadashi and Aunt Cass alike would be more than furious. They'd spend the entire car ride to fetch him complaining and griping, and swearing up and down that they were going to give Hiro a piece of their minds after such a long time without a single word from him. He'd be grounded for life, he'd be put on a leash, and he'd be fenced in a corner and never allowed to even look outside until he was old enough to move out. But then when they got to Hiro, wherever he ended up, they would have immediately forgotten all their anger. They would rush forward and sweep Hiro up in a bone-crushing hug, and refuse to let go. Because Hiro was finally back with them, however stupid he had been. And he was safe, and he was okay. How could they possibly be anything but severely relieved in the face of him?

That was what Tadashi would do in times like these. He would try to envision a way in which this entire situation would be able to come out alright. They were always stretches, like that one. They could never happen, and Tadashi knew that he was just trying to make himself feel better by picturing such outlandish things. But it was better than thinking of what else could have happened. Any other situation that could be keeping his baby brother from coming home couldn't be as sugarcoated. And just entertaining ideas like that could make Tadashi sick.

He was slow and labored with his work. Each decoration, he spent more time than he probably needed to in arranging it just perfectly. After he was through with all of this effort in Christmas decorations, he wasn't sure what else he was supposed to do. He was putting off everything else as much as he could. There was the chance that he could go down to his school and work more on his project in the lab, but leaving Aunt Cass alone now would be more than downright cruel. He was actually entertaining the idea of bringing her along with him and show her what he was working on. But he was smart enough to know that the effort would be wasted, with what today and tomorrow was.

Maybe later.

But he couldn't put it off for much longer. He decided that he had done as much as he could here. The café looked fit for a Christmas party in itself. He was sure that the customers would be happy, relieved, and festive all around. He covered every base with the efforts. He was sure that it would be no less than pleasing. Surveying his work, he felt a small touch of anger at himself. A while ago, he had gotten angry and snapped about how everyone seemed to be looking over his brother's disappearance. And now here he was, carrying on yearly traditions like nothing was going on.

Wasn't he just as bad, when he was doing all of this?

He blinked, stuffing his hands down into his pockets as he looked down at the floor. Tomorrow, it would be an entire month. And what would they do? He didn't want to sit around, he didn't want to decorate. He wanted to _do_ something. He had to, right? Both him _and_ Aunt Cass. He stayed still a little bit longer, his expression thoughtful and swamped with remorse at the same time. A few minutes passed before he straightened. His eyes flashed, and he turned, hurriedly rounding the corner and rushing up the steps.

He rushed upstairs, his steps quick and fast now. "Aunt Cass! I thought of something!" he called. "Tomorrow, how would you like to—?" He stopped at the top of the landing. While he was downstairs, Aunt Cass had set up the Christmas tree in the corner of the room. It surprised Tadashi, who had assumed that even she would wait until Tadashi was upstairs to start that. But the tree was up nonetheless. Cass was standing in front of the fir, her back to Tadashi. But he could tell by the way her shoulders were hunched that she was upset about something.

"Aunt Cass?" he asked, veering over so that he could look at her in concern. "Are you okay?" His face fell as he realized she was holding something. In each hand, she was holding something tightly. In her right, she held the star that Hiro always insisted on putting on top. And in her left, she was holding a small ornament. It was a frame made out of Popsicle sticks, the wood studded with sloppy hearts traced out in glitter. Inside the border of sticks, was a picture of a much younger Hiro and Aunt Cass, both grinning from ear-to-ear. The ornament had been some kind of project for school, and ever since then, despite the fact that Hiro had wanted it to be thrown away once he got older, Aunt Cass hung it every year.

"Aunt Cass?" Tadashi asked softly. His eyebrows pulled together in concern, looking over and frowning as he realized that his aunt's eyes were glossed over as she stared down at the items. She roused a little bit, blinking as she turned to look at him. He tilted his head to the side, his lips pulled down into a careful frown. "Are you okay?" he asked slowly.

She sniffed. She shook her head as if to clear it, giving a cough in the back of her throat. "Of course," she whispered, turning and setting the things aside. Though she did so very reluctantly; Tadashi noticed the way that she lingered over them before taking her hands away. "I'm fine. I'm just….thinking. I probably shouldn't do that." She tried to laugh, and it came out sadder than anything. Her eyes flickered back over to the two things that were now on the ground. She then looked back to the tree, seeming a little bit lost. "I suppose we should…we should start decorating the….the tree, and then we can go…" She frowned, trailing off and not trying to complete the thought.

Tadashi hesitated, looking in between Aunt Cass and the tree. He was silent for a long moment. Eventually, pushing his hands down into his pockets, he turned and looked over at his guardian with a hesitant sort of stare. "I think I have an idea."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro was laying down on his side, his gaze hollow and empty as he stared straight ahead. The bedroom was completely silent. The duct tape that had been planted over Hiro's mouth had been finally taken off after about an entire day. The skin around his mouth was bright pink and irritated. He would have reached up to try and rub away the pain, but his arms were restrained behind his back again. It was his legs that were free now, but that didn't help his case at all. It didn't help his bad leg either, which was bent awkwardly to the side. It wasn't healthy at all; it resembled more of a broken twig than a limb.

Hiro had been laying down by himself like this all day. He'd been silent, just staring off into space. Now, all of that peace and tranquility he had scavenged for was broken. Callaghan had come inside shortly after he had come home. From where, Hiro had no idea. He wasn't interested in knowing any more. He'd been gone for hours on end— it had been dark in the room by the time that he had returned. But Hiro couldn't bring himself to feel anything at all. He was completely apathetic.

Callaghan was sitting on the floor. And once he had sat down, he had grabbed Hiro and pulled him close. Hiro had started to try and reject the attempt, but Callaghan's grip had only gotten tighter at the subtle effort to wriggle away. So Hiro had given up, and that left them here. Callaghan was leaning against Abigail's bed, and he had dragged Hiro over so that the boy's head was in his lap. One hand was resting on Hiro's side, and the other was stroking through his hair as if the boy was a cat.

Callaghan had been talking a soothing mumble, though Hiro wasn't listening at all. He wasn't even sure what had been said. He assumed that it was things about Abigail— he thought that he'd heard the name a few times, and it was pretty routine that Robert had the tendency to succumb to talking about her. Especially with Hiro. He wasn't interested in listening. He wasn't interested in doing a lot these days. Laying down on the floor was the only thing he really wanted to do, and that was just because moving made him feel like he would be sick. Though a bed was right beside him, he hadn't been able to get up and lay down in it at all the entire time he's been here. It wasn't helping his back at all. He was beginning to think that he forgot what it felt like to lay down and curl up on a soft mattress. All he knew was the rigid, unforgiving floor.

"…would always try and make the most ridiculous puns," Callaghan was saying warmly. He continued to pet Hiro's hair, and Hiro was biting down on the inside of his cheek to give him something else to focus on. The headache centered behind his eyes hadn't left for what seemed like forever. He was ready to scream, with all the different pains that were stacking on top of him. With all the different layers, he was starting to feel like a cake. "She was very witty. She could make anyone laugh. I'm sure you're the same way." His voice dropped a little bit as he looked down to Hiro with a blink. "…If you would talk," he said in a mumble.

Hiro swallowed thickly. He didn't react in any way to the words. But he did suppress a small shiver.

Callaghan frowned. "You've been very quiet recently, Hiro," he said softly. There was a sense of sorrow in his words. He was remorseful— sad and weighted down. He waited for Hiro to respond, his touch growing a little more present, as if he was trying to encourage Hiro to reply. "I've been patient…waiting for you to come out of your shell. But it's been some time. And you're still not opening up." He sighed gently, looking down at Hiro with a slightly disappointed stare. "When can we be a family, Hiro?" he asked. "When can you be happy here? With me?"

Hiro closed his eyes tightly, sucking in a sharp breath as he tried to ignore the heat fostering in his throat. Behind his back, his hands curled into tight fists. He still couldn't bring himself to reply. Replying would open up room for error. But at the same time, it would also give Callaghan exactly what he wanted. At the same time, staying silent could earn him a blow regardless. It was as if every way he turned, there would be something wrong. So he just kept silent. He might as well, after all. If there was no way out, he should take the way that at least held the smallest sense of pride.

Or at least that was what he told himself. It was mostly due to fear. And the fact that he felt like if he opened his mouth, he would get violently ill. The room was certainly spinning enough for him to be. Callaghan went on. "If there's something I can do to make you happy, Hiro…all you have to do is say it," he murmured, his thumb beginning to stroke Hiro's side gently. Hiro shut his eyes even tighter at the contact. "You know I would do anything for you, Hiro. I would do anything to see that smile on your face…because I love you. You know that, right? That I love you?"

Hiro didn't reply. He just tried to keep his breathing at a normal rate.

Callaghan turned, grabbing Hiro and shifting him over so that he was sitting up. And from there he gathered Hiro close, wrapping his arms around him in a hug as he fit the boy's head underneath his chin. Hiro cringed, but stayed stock-still. He didn't try to fight back or wriggle away. He was smarter, now. "I love you very much, Hiro," he whispered gently. "And the sooner you realize that, I think the sooner we can start to be happy together. And that's all I want, truly. Nothing else in the world matters enough to me than to have you love me back. And I can wait. But not forever."

Hiro still didn't say anything. He just looked down at the ground, keeping up the gnawing of his cheek. His eyes filled with tears, and he concentrated on not blinking so they wouldn't fall. He just sniffed softly, and hoped that Callaghan wouldn't notice. Again, such a hope was futile. He noticed immediately, going by the way he began to rub at Hiro's shoulder and sway him gently from side to side, like he was a fussy infant. The thought caused more tears to surge forward, but Hiro was slowly becoming skilled at holding them back. Or at least, in some instances. This being one of them.

Hopefully.

They were like that for a few minutes. Hiro trying not to show the fact that he was so ready to cry or get sick— the sensation wasn't all that helped, now that he was being shifted from side to side. He could only grimace and try not to recoil from the touch that was administered to him. Callaghan continued to hold him close. Eventually the silence was broken, though. "I'm going to be gone tomorrow," Callaghan said, rousing Hiro's attention slightly. "I won't be home. Maybe being by yourself will help you understand and get used to the idea. Maybe you can open up more after a day of being alone."

Isolation. That was like tactics that prisons used, wasn't it? Leave someone alone after they've been bad and trick them into complying. Because at least then, even if your heart wasn't in it, you wouldn't be alone. You would have some other kind of interaction that could fool yourself into comfort or solace. The thought was enough to curb his stomach, and Hiro held back a groan against the waves of sickness coming over him.

Sure enough, soon after Callaghan said this, he began to withdraw from Hiro. He untangled himself and stood up, leaving Hiro to sag to the side, being forced to catch himself before he fell. "Maybe you can warm up by then," he said, turning and making for the door. "Until then, you can think about the way you've been acting." It made it sound like Hiro was in trouble for doing something trivial like breaking a window, or stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.

He crossed the threshold. The silver beads hanging in the doorway rattled, announcing that somebody was leaving. Hiro hung his head, closing his eyes as he tried to stop the room from spinning. He felt awful. His stomach was clenched, and his head was swimming in pain. His leg and his back were throbbing in sync. And he felt so weak, he felt like he was disintegrating on the spot. Hiro would gladly tear out his hair, if only such a thing would make him feel even the slightest bit better.

But before Callaghan could shut the door and leave him completely alone, Hiro managed to spit out a few words. Sure enough, he felt even worse as he spoke. But he managed to do nonetheless, though he refused to turn and look up at the man. "Where…where are you going tomorrow?" he asked, not brave enough to speak over a murmur. He already felt bad enough as it was.

Callaghan stopped short. He turned and looked back at Hiro. When they boy's eyes flickered up to him, he saw that Robert was wearing a small smile on his face. And the reply shed no extra light on the topic. "Tomorrow is a very special day," he said, his voice turning songlike.

Hiro blinked, his face falling somewhat. He opened his mouth, as if to ask something more.

But Callaghan had already turned and shut the door behind him.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Saying it was cold would be an understatement. It was about ten degrees out, and as of an hour ago, it was snowing. But that made everything all the more impactful. Despite the weather, people of San Franksokyo still came. It was a whole crowd— much bigger than Tadashi thought would come at all. News stations came out, even. Tadashi had hoped there would be a reaction; he would have taken even the smallest inkling of care. He didn't think most people would even consider coming. But an entire mob was here. They'd heard what was happening, and they had flocked. To his utter shock and astonishment.

He'd vented to the others that nobody seemed to care about Hiro's absence.

But looking at this, he was entirely, completely wrong.

Today marked a month that Hiro was gone. But as soon as the thought occurred to Tadashi that the day would be plagued only by sorrow and intense regret, he was adamant that it would be anything but. He'd told Aunt Cass, and at first she had been cautious of the idea. But soon after the initial wariness, she turned instead to be eager and ecstatic. It was a brilliant idea to do this, on the night of the one-month marker. It was better than anything else they had to do.

Tadashi had gotten the word out as best he could. He had Aunt Cass and his friends' help as well. They put up posters and handed out fliers and spread the word orally as well. They got in touch with the police, who then went to get in touch with the local news. Everything they could do, they did. And it led them to here.

A candlelight vigil. It wasn't really the most effective thing they could do. It wasn't finding Hiro and it wasn't bringing him home. But it was more than they would be doing if Tadashi had not come up with the idea. People Tadashi had never even seen before had come to the park, where they had decided they would hold it. Most people had brought candles, but even so, Tadashi and Aunt Cass and the others had brought some along just in case. Apart from their own, that was.

They weren't sure what to do. At first, they just handed out candles to those who needed them, and said thank you to some and had small conversations with others. People offered them condolences, others offered them words of encouragement. They all held candles, and they all fanned out in a crowd to cover the park. It was a sight to see— one of the first comforting sights they had gotten in this situation, excluding the ones that they had gotten from Tadashi's friends. Who were currently milling through the crowd and helping dole out fervent 'thank-you's.

Even now, they were doing all they could for the family.

Currently, Tadashi and Aunt Cass were standing in the middle of it all. Watching the people around them intently, still in slight disbelief of the turn-out. Tadashi, as ever, was not about to leave his aunt's side. Especially now. He stayed beside her, holding his own candle, which was generating a small pocket of warmth from the frigid weather. It would only get worse, Tadashi knew. The others might leave after a few hours, but he was determined to stay all night. He felt as if it was the right thing to do.

The crowd was standing near the pair of them— they were the focal point of the night, of course. Aunt Cass was doing most of the talking; Tadashi was just watching. "Yes, thank you very much for coming," Aunt Cass was in the middle of saying, turning to smile at a family of four. She smiled widely at them, though it was wavering once she looked at the mother and father's two little girls. But she shook the thought off quickly. "We appreciate it. We just…we just wanted to do something for tonight. It means a lot that you've come."

"Miss Hamada!" Tadashi and Aunt Cass both straightened at the call. They turned in sync, looking slightly alarmed at the sight of a camera approaching. There was a reporter as well— one Hiro couldn't name, considering he never really kept up with the local news. She was holding a microphone in one hand, her expression earnest as she broke through the crowd. "Miss Hamada, a few words?" Aunt Cass tried to stammer out a reply, but she resorted instead to just smiling. Tadashi realized that her eyes were slightly teary. The reporter approached her and offered her one of her own grins. "This candlelight vigil is a wonderful thing to have in Hiro Hamada's honor. I think I speak for everyone in San Franksokyo when I say that we are all hoping for the safe return of your nephew."

Aunt Cass nodded, Tadashi's worry spiking as he saw that her lower lip trembled. But despite the tremor, she held her own. "Yes. He's…he's um…been gone a month now. And we're just trying to make sure that people remember him. And…maybe wherever he is, he'll see this. And he'll know that we're still trying our best to find him. And that we're waiting for him." She swallowed thickly, looking down at her candle, and the small flame that was still flickering there. "So it means so much to know that everyone would come out like they did."

"And we're all waiting with you," the reporter replied.

Tadashi blinked at the reply. Aunt Cass swelled with relief. "Thank you," she said softly, smiling. "We appreciate everyone coming out. They didn't have to…so it means the world." The reporter continued to hold the microphone in place, so Aunt Cass reluctantly leaned forward to speak further. "Um…my nephew Hiro Hamada is still missing. And…we just have no idea where he was. So…so if anybody hears anything…" She hesitated, swallowing hard. Her hands fisted her sides, and when she spoke, her voice was tinny and softer. More congested with sorrow. Tadashi watched as her lower lip continued to get more and more violent in its trembling. "It's been a month. And…and I just want my baby to come home. So…if you hear anything…or see anything…if you could just…please call the Lucky Cat Café. I just want my nephew back. Please."

The reporter offered her a gentle touch on the shoulder, turning and looking back at the camera. "A truly heart wrenching lament from the Hamada family," she narrated. Tadashi wasn't sure whether or not he should be irritated by her actions or not. "If anybody is to know of young Hiro Hamada's whereabouts, please notify either the boy's family, or the police. A young fourteen-year-old disappeared from San Fransokyo without a trace. A family in need of an answer. This candlelight vigil is the perfect setting to remember the boy and keep alive the effort that is going into finding him."

Aunt Cass turned away, wiping at her face as her eyes filled over with more tears. She sniffed, and Tadashi moved over quickly, wrapping his arms around his aunt gently as he hugged her close. He mumbled a few words of encouragement, and tried not to focus on the fact that the camera was still aimed to them. Juggling the candle and trying not to get burned by Aunt Cass' candle in the process, he started to pull away to look at her and offer her a grin or a few more comforting phrases. But before he could, he straightened, surprising flooding his gaze as someone else pushed their way through the crowd.

He couldn't believe it.

He was _here_?

A smile split over Tadashi's face. He pulled away from Aunt Cass, who perked as well and turned. "Professor Callaghan!" Tadashi greeted warmly, his eyes brightening at the arrival of his teacher. He was separating himself away from the rest of the crowd, bundled up in a warm coat and a scarf. He returned Tadashi's smile whole-heartedly, and Tadashi's grin grew even more as he realized that in gloved hands, his teacher was also holding a candle. "You came!?" he asked, Cass melting in gratitude at the notion. "I can't believe it!"

"I told you, I care about what my students are going through," Callaghan replied, walking up and stopping only when he was a foot or two away from the pair. They both grinned gratefully his way, and he looked down at the candle he held. "I'm truly sorry for your loss," he said softly. "Every day I hope to hear the news that Hiro has been found." He turned and looked over at Aunt Cass, his expression heavy. "Please know that you're in my prayers. I hope your nephew is returned safe and sound."

Cass smiled from ear-to-ear. But it wavered and chipped before she could try and fix it, and before either of them could try and comfort her, she burst into tears. Tadashi stiffened and made a move to hug her again, but surprisingly he was not fast enough. Callaghan stepped forward and pulled her into a close embrace. And she did not pull away from the comfort, breaking down even more as she tried to stifle her sobs. The teacher used his free hand to rub her back comfortingly. "It's alright," he said gently. "It's alright. I know. I've lost a child before. It's hard. We're all here for you."

Tadashi watched with a heavy expression as Callaghan hugged Aunt Cass tightly, mumbling gentle encouragements. However, at the sight of his aunt getting support from more than just himself and his friends, a small smile pierced through his sorrow. He knew that the camera was recording the moment, but he didn't mind anymore. Professor Callaghan looked up to meet his gaze, and Tadashi gave a small nod of thanks. Callaghan smiled, and turned to reach over and grab at the younger boy's wrist. He pulled him into the hug as well, much to Tadashi's surprise.

He was too surprised to do anything for a moment, but then he smiled and warmed over. All three of them were juggling their candles in one hand and the hug in the other, but none of them seemed to mind. Tadashi wrapped his free arm around his teacher, feeling a warm burst of gratitude and happiness that at least today, on the darkest of days, this idea could bring a little bit of light. It was just what they needed— support from friends and those who were willing to help.

The day had started off dreary and fraught with sorrow and agony, but now Tadashi was beginning to think that after all this suffering, they might be able to find the end of the road here pretty soon. With such open support from everyone in the city, what else could be true?

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He was sick. He had to be, right? He was feeling completely awful. Ever since he had woken up, the ground was reeling underneath him. He felt like someone had blindfolded him and then spun him in about a hundred and eighty circles. Disoriented and nauseous, he had resorted quite a few times to humming in order to try and stop himself from getting sick. The trashcan was on the other side of the room, and Hiro wasn't a fan of getting sick on the floor and being forced to sit in its presence until Callaghan came back.

Which he never really saw when that was possible— Hiro was starting to think that Robert was just never going to come back. Maybe he realized that this whole scheme would land him in deep, and he couldn't possibly get away with it. Maybe he skipped town, and just left Hiro here to starve to death. As if he wasn't already in the process of doing that. Laying on his side on the ground, struggling to stand upright against the wave of sickness and pain that was slamming against him, the boy wondered rather grimly how his body was going to be found. Would it be a few days after he died, or would it be a few years? Maybe a curious neighbor would wonder where Callaghan was and sneak in to find the chained victim rotting on the floor of the pink room. Or maybe the smell would start to bother the neighborhood so they go looking.

 _Shut up. You're really creeping me out. Don't say things like that._

 _Sorry. You probably can't handle the truth. It hurts sometimes._

Hiro closed his eyes and let out another whimper as his back wen into another painful spasm. It did that a lot, and he was starting to think it would just be better if he _did_ start wasting away. He was in unbearable amounts of pain. And he was starting to forget what it felt like _to_ be completely healthy. He tried to breathe through it, though every other intake of air was punctured with harsh gasps. He needed hospital. He needed an ambulance. He needed Aunt Cass, and he needed Tadashi. What would they think if they saw him now? To the best of his ability, he was trying to refute Callaghan's notion that they did not care. He couldn't bring himself to think of them that way. They cared. He knew that they did.

 _Come here,_ Aunt Cass would say softly. She'd lean over and wrap up Hiro gently and plant small kisses on his bruises and his scrapes. _I'm so sorry…if only I had known where you were. If only I had found you faster. But you're safe now, and you're with me. I'll take care of you. I'll protect you. I won't let anyone else touch a single hair on your head._ The thought brought tears to Hiro's eyes, and a twisting to his already-sensitive stomach. He just wanted to go home.

He wanted to go home.

There was a soft noise that brought Hiro out of his stupor. He sniffed, finding that somehow tears had leaked down to track over his face. He dragged his arm forcefully into motion, and he rubbed at his eyes, wiping them away. It was like moving a brick, but he managed to feat nonetheless. He turned his head ever so slightly to the side towards the door and then stopped there, for fear of pushing himself too hard. Even from the tiny movement, he was already slightly winded and sickened.

The doorknob turned, and Hiro blinked slowly as Callaghan stepped into the room. Again, the silver beads clacked and clanged together. He was holding something in his hands—it looked like a box. Hiro blinked slowly and started to push himself up, but stopped short. He grimaced, choking back a gag as the movement caused his head to spin. He nearly threw up on the spot, and almost asked for that box in case he did. But his self-control was astounding, and he managed to avoid such an episode.

 _Look. See? He didn't leave us. He never would. We're_ not _going to die._

 _Yeah, you say that. But look at what he's holding. What if it's the gun?_

 _Why would he put the gun inside of a box, you stupid idiot?_

I'm _the stupid idiot? You associate him coming back, with we're not dying! How stupid is that!?_

"Hello, Hiro," Callaghan said, his voice gentle and bright. Hiro didn't reply, remaining still on the floor as he merely watched him stride inside. He took notice of the fact that Callaghan shut the door behind him. Then he went over, crouching next to Hiro and putting the box down on the floor. Hiro eyed it warily. "Are you feeling better?" Hiro didn't reply, flinching as he swallowed back another gag. Taking this as some sort of reply, Callaghan grinned indulgently. "Oh, c'mon now…" He leaned over and grabbed Hiro's shoulders. And before Hiro could object, he pulled him up quickly into a sitting position.

His back screamed at the turn, and his head and stomach fell away from him. His vision crowded in black, and he convulsed forward into a heave that thankfully turned up dry. He breathed shallowly, struggling to come back to himself. Callaghan didn't seem to notice Hiro's turmoil at the sharp transition. That, or he didn't care. "Do you know what today is, Hiro?" he asked. The joy in his voice was unmistakable.

For a moment, Hiro was paralyzed in horror. Was it Christmas? Was it _already_ Christmas!? Had he slept through that many days!? "I…" He staggered, trying to make his lips move and his tongue to work. "I don't…" Was it Christmas!?

"Today marks a month since you came to me!" Callaghan answered for him. Hiro's face went slack. The horror of Christmas faded away, but it was only replaced with the horrible realization that so much time had passed. His expression went hollow, yet still, the other was oblivious. Robert turned and grabbed the box, pushing it over the boy with an eager grin. "I went out and I got you a present in honor of today. I got one for Abigail for her tenth birthday, and she loved it to death. I know you'll be just the same." Hiro stared down emptily at the box, his heart sinking. He didn't make a move for it. As if to tempt him, Callaghan added: "And you've been so sad recently. I was thinking that you might need someone else around to brighten up your day."

Hiro still did not move. He just stared at the box.

Callaghan pushed it even closer. "Go on," he said brightly. "You can do it."

He hesitated. But eventually knew that any more resistance could be taken as something awful. He swallowed hard and leaned forward, ignoring the weight of his own limbs and the sickness that was hanging over him. He grabbed the lid of the box and shuffled it off. He turned and set it off to the side. Against himself, he really was starting to wonder if this was some messed-up threat, and the gun really would be in there. What on earth could Callaghan possibly give him? All Hiro wanted was—

His thoughts stopped as he turned and looked at what was in the box. For a second he was too confused to do anything but gawk. He was thinking that there had to be some kind of mistake. Because this was just…well, he wouldn't have guessed that this was the present if he had been given a million tries. Callaghan immediately beamed when he saw Hiro's response. "It will be a lot of work," he said, sounding ecstatic with the warning. "But I think you're more than responsible enough." Responsible? Hiro was responsible? Like this? "I'll let it out, of course. And take it for walks. But now you'll have someone here with you! When I go out to work! You were so upset about that at Thanksgiving."

It was a dog. A little puppy. In the dark, Hiro couldn't really make out what it looked like in terms of color or breed. But it was a puppy. It was small enough to fit in the box, though it was laying down at the same time. When Hiro didn't move, Callaghan reached in and picked it up, moving it so that it could be on Hiro's lap. It must have been sleeping, because as soon as it was plopped down into place, it sat up, turning and looking up at Hiro with big brown eyes. Hiro just stared back blankly. He still didn't move.

"Don't you like it?" Callaghan prompted. "I went to the pet store and I picked it out specifically for you. I thought this was the perfect thing to get our family started."

Hiro tried to feel a sense of disgust. The puppy's weight on his leg was causing the pain in it to increase tenfold. But Hiro didn't try to move it, or even shift into a more comfortable position. The little thing nuzzled at his arm, and the thought registered that this was the first gentle touch Hiro had received since he came here. Well— the first gentle touch that did not follow a hard kick or a punch. The small pup started to get eager at the smell of Hiro, and let out a small squeak. And before Hiro could stop himself, a smile was spreading over his bruised face. The puppy licked at his arm, and he chuckled underneath his breath.

Callaghan grinned. "You like it!" he exclaimed in happiness. "Don't you?"

Hiro reached over, stroking the puppy's cotton-like fur as his smile grew. His eyes turned soft, and he giggled underneath his breath as the puppy gave out another plaintive squeak. "Yeah," he rasped, his voice cracked and unused. "I…yeah, I like it." Callaghan was staring at him expectantly, his eyebrows slightly raised. Hiro turned and looked up at him, feeling dread like a needle in his stomach.

 _Don't be stupid. Please, please, please, don't be stupid. I can't take much more._

 _Don't say it. It's what he wants you to say. You don't owe him anything._

 _Please, please,_ please _, say it. It's a dog._

 _Who cares if it's a dog!? You're playing into his hands!_

 _Please, please, please…_

 _Stop it!_

 _Please, please, please…I hurt so much…._

Hiro offered Callaghan a small smile, gratitude and fear and pain mingling into one mixed gaze. And softly, he whispered out the two words to his kidnapper.

"Thank you."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: So I'm up at midnight on a school night. That's cool and that always leads to really _amazingly written_ chapters –she says sarcastically-.

Sorry again if there are any typos. I've really got to get to sleep. If you see and issues or typos, I implore you to point them out so I could maybe fix them. And the time skips are going to start becoming a thing, so…if you need any clarification, feel free to ask! I can always answer any question related to plot! Every time skip I do I reference an online 2014 calendar so…I'm probably putting in way too much effort XD

Anyway yup! I wriggled out another update! You guys were awesome with feedback, so it was super quick! I hope you all like it and I hope to hear from you again! Debate amongst yourselves whether the dog is a girl or a boy, I haven't decided yet ;)

See you in ten reviews!


	9. Chapter 9

_You know that all of this is entirely your fault, don't you?_

"Yeah. I do."

 _Because if you had just listened to me to begin with, none of this would have happened._

"I know that."

 _If you had just listened to me, you'd be home right now._

"I _get_ it."

 _Do you? Do you_ really _? I can't believe how stupid you were. Are. You deserve to be here._

"Stop."

 _Why should I? You didn't stop Bot Fighting when I asked you to._

"Because I don't need this. Not right now."

 _Oh, but maybe that's far from the truth. Maybe this is_ exactly _what you need._

Hiro scowled, his eyes beginning to prickle over and sting. He tried to find something else he could say, something he could try and do to make himself feel better or at least appear better outwardly. But he couldn't. It was a moot discussion. The entire thing was. And yet it kept going on like this— the entire day, it had followed in a similar manner. As soon as Hiro thought it was subsiding, his thoughts would be dragged back to square one. A continuous cycle. Like everything seemed to be.

"Hiro?" The cycle was broken with the sound of a door creaking open, and the added call of his name. He was roused, as he always was, though only halfway. He still seemed slightly distracted, and he could not bring himself to reply verbally. He just continued to stare straight ahead, stopping in his own pattern of speech and just waiting for Callaghan to speak again. And speak he did, yet Hiro was acutely aware of the tension that was in his voice. "Who were you talking to?"

There was a long gap of silence.

Talking?

Oh. Right. Sure.

Hiro replied, but he did so quietly. Barely able to be heard. "…My brother," he mumbled.

There was another period of silence. Inwardly, Hiro wondered whether or not such an odd statement would inspire in the other a sense of pity, which could maybe lead to something positive. Or whether or not it would lead Hiro to get punished for some reason or another that would only make sense in Robert's mind. But neither of those happened, surprisingly enough. The man just cleared his throat and leaned over, putting the load that was in his arms down on the floor. "Well, stop," Callaghan said, his voice flat with the blunt command. "Because we've got quite a lot to do today."

There was a pattering of rapid footsteps that approached— a hopping kind of tempo. Hiro perked at the noise and turned quickly in its direction. And for once, the boy wasn't stabbed through with a sense of terror at the oncoming approach. It was the opposite, in fact. Before, his bruised and battered face was weighted down in weary sorrow. But now, it broke into a smile. His eyes glimmered and brightened significantly, and he immediately forgot everything else that was going on. He turned and reached out.

The little puppy immediately shot for Hiro, once it was let free of Callaghan's grip. It was so eager to see Hiro, that with every little flounce it gave, it yipped shrilly with excitement. The noise itself was enough to make Hiro's smile grow, and so when the little thing rushed into him in a flurry of excitement, the expression just grew tenfold. He bundled up the dog and pulled it up into his chest in a hug, thanking the fact that it was so small and therefore so light. If it was any bigger, then he'd be too weak to pick it up.

It. He immediately admonished himself for the usage of that specific pronoun.

She wasn't an 'it.'

"Hey there," Hiro cooed, the smile staying on his face fixedly. It was odd; he'd gone so long without smiling at all, and now he almost couldn't stop it. Not when the little dog was snuffling at him and batting at him with her paws, that was. She'd only been here for a few days, and yet Hiro was already finding the situation he was in easier to swallow. At least…when she was here, it made things easier. He picked her up and hung her in front of his face, putting them nose-to-nose. "Where have you been?" he mumbled, grinning from one ear to the other. "I've missed you."

"I took her on a walk. Just a small one." Hiro's smile wavered and dropped in degrees once Callaghan spoke, breaking his concentration. The boy blinked and let his arms fall, placing the small dog down in his lap. He tried to ignore the other's presence. He just turned and took to scratching at the dog's ears. Her tail was wagging was hard that her entire body was shaking. His eyes softened a little bit, yet his smile did not return. Not right now.

Refusing to take the response as anything against him apparently, Robert continued to walk into the room until he was beside Hiro. Once he was, he turned and knelt down to be at eye level. There was a smile on his face; of course there was. "I was _hoping_ that my gift would make you happier."

Hiro tried focusing solely on the small puppy in his grasp. He studied every inch of her as best he could, trying to blot out anything else. But there wasn't a lot of detail to get lost in. She was completely white. Her tail was curled, and her ears were pointed into sharp angles. Her fur fuzzed out in every direction, and even though Hiro knew it was stupid, the way she lolled her tongue made it look like she was smiling.

Callaghan had said she was a Shiba Inu, and Hiro couldn't really find fault with the description. It seemed right enough. But he couldn't care less what type of dog she was, if he was being honest. All he cared was the fact that he had some company now that was not menacing or threatening. He had even been allowed to sleep with her these past two nights. In the pitch-black room, of the floor of what he now knew to be his prison, he hadn't wallowed in pain and self-pity for once. Instead, he'd listened to the little thing zip this way and that, yipping and growling and rushing over every so often to pummel at Hiro gently, as if asking him to play.

He'd been happy, for once.

Hiro glanced over at Callaghan, clearing his throat. His voice came out wary and cautious. "…Yes." Then he looked back to the puppy. He grinned and scratched down her back affectionately. She responded by turning and craning her neck, her tongue flicking out in the desperate attempt to lick him. "I am…happier." Admitting it felt odd on his tongue— a phrase he rather would not have let slip. Not to Callaghan, who would only take it as an encouragement on his part. But he didn't have much of a choice. Some part of him was reluctant to show any kind of defiance or hesitation to his captor. The gift of a companion had been so easily given, and so surprisingly as well.

He could just as easily take it away from him…couldn't he?

Callaghan smiled brilliantly. "Good," he said, his voice and expression as warm as a blanket on a cold day. "Good, Hiro! Good! I am so glad to hear that. I'm very glad. That's the best thing I've heard all day!" Going by his expression, Hiro wasn't able to doubt such a thing. Again, he looked like he'd just won about a million dollars. It made him sick, and he reverted back to focusing on the dog. It was getting to be a habit, even though the pup hadn't even been here that long. Robert cleared his throat as he sensed that the other's attention was wavering. "Hiro, I was thinking that today you could make your ornament. It _is_ December 20th, after all."

His throat swelled and began to burn. Five days. The holiday was just five days away, now. He tried to shove the thought away before it could fester, or before any more unnecessary tears could spring up into his eyes. He cleared his throat and tried to cough its soreness away. When he landed on something, it was less than stellar. "What do you mean?" He feigned ignorance. It wasn't hard— it was easier to do than facing what was being asked of him. He was starting to realize that that was becoming a truth for most things nowadays.

Unfortunately, Callaghan was more than willing to explain. Like he was willing to do everything so far up to this point. "Remember?" he prompted, offering the boy a smile, as if the gesture would warm him up to the idea of cooperating faster. "We decided that you would make a celebrative ornament. One that would mark every Christmas we spend together. And then we can hang them up together every year. It can be our special tradition." When Hiro didn't reply immediately, Callaghan moved to push him even more. "I've got some supplies we can use. They're all organized downstairs. I was thinking that you could make it up here and then, if you're very good, we could go and hang on the tree. I put it up the other night, after you went to sleep."

Then he must have backed away from the idea of decorating together. It wasn't really surprising. Hiro didn't look like he could lift a wreath right now. In fact, if a fight was started between him and the circle of fir, he'd probably be knocked out for a good week. But that was just the excuse, he knew. Callaghan had made him walk on his bad leg and with his bad back a million times over since this whole thing was started. Whenever he went down the hall to the bathroom, or to take a shower whenever the option was given to him by his kidnapper, he was always forced to do it alone.

Absolutely anything but a health expert, Robert claimed that walking on his injuries would only make them better, or at the very least the wounded areas would get stronger and more capable of maneuvering. So far, such an idea wasn't really turning out to be true. In fact, the only thing that was really turning out was the complete opposite. He was pretty sure he was getting worse. And still, he was forced to make the trip. Pushed and shoved, if Hiro went so far as to try and fight against it.

So Callaghan wouldn't keep Hiro from helping decorate just because he was worried he might hurt himself in the process. He would keep the child from going downstairs, only if he was worried that Hiro would try and draw attention to himself. If he was worried that Hiro would scream or cry out or give this entire plot away. That was the only reason the man was probably stopping himself from dragging Hiro downstairs and forcing him to put up some stupid Rudolph figurines.

That meant he didn't trust him. He didn't buy into the fact that Hiro was trying his hardest not to display anything that could spike such suspicion. He still wasn't going to let Hiro back downstairs. He wasn't going to unchain Hiro from the bed, and Hiro was going to have that much less of a shot at getting out of here. At the realization, the teenager closed his eyes tightly, struggling to keep himself relaxed.

It didn't matter, did it? Lingering on the idea? Not really. Thinking about it and coming to its conclusion wasn't going to change anything. It would just make him even more upset.

…Right?

Right.

Eventually Hiro brought himself to reply. "Yeah. Sure."

The puppy in his lap yawned widely, thumping her too-big paws on his jeans. Hiro tried to get as much happiness from the cute motion as he could. It wasn't really that effective, though. Which was bad, considering this was his best solace at the moment. Callaghan started to stand at his side, looking energized and eager all over again. "I'll get it all, then," he said, upbeat now. "Don't worry— you'll make an amazing ornament! It'll be great!"

Hiro tried not to grimace, and kept petting the puppy in his lap. Callaghan came back shortly with everything that he would need. Looking at them all spread out on the ground before him, Hiro's memory flashed back to the Christmas parties he'd had in elementary school before he was boosted up straight into high school.

He'd seen the Popsicle sticks and the glitter and the tape and the glue and everything in between. It brought along a sense of nostalgia and also bitter and deep regret. He'd always complained to Aunt Cass that Christmas parties and Valentine's Day parties and Halloween Parties were stupid. His whining stemmed from the idea that they were just wasting time, and why go to school if he wasn't going to be taught anything? It was a better way of saying that the stupid party games irritated him senseless, and he never really had the friends it took to have a good time at any of those things.

He'd complained vehemently back then. But now he'd give both of his legs to be able to get back there and appreciate every second. He'd go back to the time that he had gotten angry at Aunt Cass for spending too much time taking his picture before the ninth grade dance, and instead he'd gush and hug her tightly, loving her for how much love she held for him. He'd go back to when he'd stood across from Tadashi, his brother frigid and cold as he washed dishes and told him that there wasn't any point in fighting anymore. Instead of just going away and rolling his eyes at his brother, Hiro would have done anything else instead. He would have thrown Megabot carelessly to the side, and he would have sprinted across the room to hit Tadashi with the hardest hug imaginable. He wouldn't have let go. Because that was what he should have done to begin with.

But he hadn't.

Why had he always been such an ungrateful little _brat_?

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro wheezed unevenly. His breathing was slower and more labored than normal. But that was to expected after he was forced to walk from Abigail's old room, through the hallway, down the steps, through some more hallways, and then over to the Christmas tree. There was a stitch in his side, and he was trying to ignore the headache that was currently shattering his skull. At least he had been allowed to sit down. His leg was on fire, as was his back. And not for the first time, he was wishing for some kind of medication that could maybe alleviate some of the agony that he was forced to experience day in and day out.

But given the history, Hiro wasn't about to ask for anything like that.

He'd finished making the ornament. Looking at it was almost enough to make him sick. He hadn't known what to do; he wasn't artistic. Yes, he could make anything out of scrap metal, and have it do your homework for you. He could take a few nuts and bolts and create the world's newest, most useful innovation, with more than a fifty percent chance success rate, he was pretty sure.

But hand him a bunch of arts and crafts? He was suddenly lost. He was no better than a five-year-old. No other teacher in history had ever been disappointed in him, save for his art teacher. She always used to get onto him about the lack of effort he put into his work. Well…his band teacher had been pretty disappointed in him too, but that was mainly because Hiro had once skipped class go to Engineering 5 instead. But he'd felt a little less bad about that one. And it was a little irrelevant in respect to this current topic.

So Hiro had made the first thing that came to mind. The four-popsicle-stick picture frame that every kid made at those dumb holiday parties from preschool on. At first, it seemed to him as some sort of rebellion— the only form that he could do, considering Callaghan wouldn't be able to have any idea. This way, Hiro wouldn't put a single ounce of effort into making the dumb decoration; he was just recycling something old and slapping it together carelessly.

But once he'd gotten to the end of it all, he realized what he'd hadn't before. Tracing the border of wood with purposefully-sloppy glitter glue, Hiro had suddenly slowed down. His mind spluttered, and it tried desperately to remember why he suddenly thought that something was wrong. Because something had been wrong; or at least, it had occurred to him as such. It had taken him much too long to realize what exactly was amiss.

It was the exact same thing that he'd made for Aunt Cass when he was little. It was the same, right down to the design he had currently been making. The realization had slapped him across the face. And he had immediately taken to trying to break the thing and start over completely. But there hadn't been any point. Callaghan had been rushing him along too much, and Hiro had been too scared to know what would happen if he broke the trinket.

So he'd finished it.

Callaghan had seen the picture-like frame that Hiro had been gluing together with little interest. And realizing this, the man had immediately taken his phone out from his pocket, and requested Hiro to pose for a photo to put inside. At first, Hiro had been too distracted to respond to the request; he'd just stared at the phone, his eyes slightly wider than normal. But Robert had asked again louder this time. Ignoring him a second time wasn't really an option. Hiro had just stared at the camera, and mimicked a smile as best he could.

It came out more as a tight wince.

Callaghan left to print it off. At first, Hiro had hoped he'd be stupid enough to get it printed out at some store, and someone might be able to recognize him. Or maybe they could see the way he looked in the photo and at least get the tiniest bit skeptical of whatever situation it had been derived from. But it was pointless. He'd had a printer directly connected to his computer. He just got the photo off of that. Which led Hiro's hope to being shot through the heart, and his disappointment and frustration to multiply on top of itself. Which shouldn't really come off as a surprise.

So he'd been marched down here, and now here he was. Sitting on the ground, a dog in his lap, trying not to scowl at the thing he was looking at. His ornament had been put up on one of the branches; a spot that Callaghan had picked out with a great amount of care. Hiro's stupid gluey adornment had been placed right beside another ornament, less than an inch away.

He and Abigail were now side-by-side on the fir tree.

Abigail was in a clear glass covering— it was much fancier and neater than the one that Hiro was in. Her short hair was curled into tight little ringlets. A gleeful smile was broken over her face; she looked like she frozen mid-laugh. She had on her same glasses, and she was wearing a green flannel. Beside her, Hiro was a sight. He hadn't really looked at himself for this long; not since that first time he'd been let into the bathroom. Now, he had the tendency to avoid looking in the mirror. He didn't like what he saw looking back at him, and Hiro hoped that he could avoid such confrontation. But it seemed like no such luck. He was faced with it head-on now.

He was much skinnier than he thought he was. His face looked…weird. His bones seemed to jut out awkwardly; it made him look like someone completely different. And his hair was still a shock to see— right beside Abigail, the two styles were almost completely the same. The same swooped bangs, the same length cut short right by the ears. Hiro was even wearing another flannel shirt to match hers. The only difference between them was in the glasses. And the expression. While Abigail was beaming and giggling, Hiro looked as though he was going through physical pain just by offering the slight upturn of his lips.

Two kids. One was happy and one wasn't. One was healthy and one wasn't.

One was happy and full of life. The other wanted nothing more than to curl in a ball and die.

How on earth were they supposed to be the same person?

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It was late. Tadashi had spent the last two hours holed up in his room, trying to concentrate as best he could on typing up the newest plans he had for his Robotics project. Compiling all of them together in a list was more organized than just trying to remember them. Not to mention the fact that he was currently trying his best to distract himself. He'd gone the whole day doing pretty well. He and Aunt Cass had gone out to buy more baking ingredients, and then they'd gone to take a walk around the city to clear their heads. It had been almost fun. They'd had a few conversations that were actually interesting and didn't drift over to Hiro being gone. They'd gone out for ice cream together.

It was almost like things were normal.

But now it was dark and Aunt Cass had gone to bed, and he was left in a room that now seemed completely empty. The thought caused him to glance, not for the first time, up from his work. His fingers stilled over the keyboard and his eyes flashed as they rested on his brother's side of the room. He held back a sorrowful sigh, his shoulders drooping. The covers of Hiro's bed were tightly tucked underneath the mattress. Not a single thing about it was unmade, or even alerted. It was a sharp contrast against what it normally was. Normally, it was pulling teeth to get Hiro to make his bed. Or to clean at all.

Now it was too clean. It was just a reminder that Hiro wasn't here to yank the sheets around in sleep. As the thought registered in Tadashi's mind, he inhaled sharply. He turned and shut his laptop, turning and putting the computer away before standing. He'd go and sleep on the couch, if only just for tonight. Maybe then he would be able to get some rest for once. Or he could at least stop thinking of what Hiro would be doing right now if he was safe at home, currently in the bed across from him. Or even worse— what Hiro _could_ be doing at this moment, wherever he was.

Did he at least have a bed where he was?

Tadashi left his work and decided to get back to it tomorrow. He turned and headed downstairs, intent on catching some peace of mind that would come from unconsciousness. But he was stopped short. To his surprise, the living room was already occupied. The TV was on, casting a blueish light over everything. Aunt Cass was sitting on the couch, her legs crossed tightly as she held a pillow in her lap. She was so intent on what she was watching, that she didn't even notice when her oldest nephew came downstairs. Taking to silence, Tadashi walked down the rest of the stairs but lingered on the last one, his lips pulling into a frown as he looked at the screen.

It was the news. And what was on the news, was the footage of their candlelight vigil from a few days ago. It surprised him. For a second, he thought they were rerunning it. But surely it had to be something else— had she recorded it? Whatever the reason, it was on now, and she was watching it. He could see the people in the park, and what seemed like a sea of candle flames. There was a rolling text underneath, reminding those watching that they could call in if they knew anything about Hiro's whereabouts. There was a clip of Tadashi and Aunt Cass together, and there was even a clip of Gogo and the others thanking people for coming. All quick of course, and never lingered on. Mostly it was just these clips chopped together, and the reporter's voice speaking over it, going over Hiro's story and whatever other information could help.

Again, Tadashi found just the smallest sense of pride that they had managed to pull such a thing off.

He cleared his throat. Though the sound was soft, Cass jumped immediately. She whipped around, her eyes wide. She calmed down after a second, realizing who it was as she took instead to smiling. "Oh. Tadashi— you scared me," she sighed. She cleared her throat and turned reluctantly back to the television. She started to reach for the remote. "I-I'm sorry. Is the TV too loud? I didn't mean to wake you up." It was a logical enough conclusion, considering it was about one in the morning probably. Amid all this ordeal, Tadashi and Cass' sleep schedule had gotten to be anything but normal. "I'll turn it down. You can go back to sleep."

But Tadashi just took the last step down, turning and starting over to the couch. "No, no. I was already up," he said. Aunt Cass perked and shuffled to the side on the couch, making room for her nephew. He took the gesture with a smile and sat down, his hands clasping together. From the corner of his eye, he glanced over at his guardian. She had turned back to the screen, her expression a little heavy as she watched the images flicker and change. It took Tadashi a second to break the silence, but break it he did. "You…recorded it?" he asked a little lamely.

"Yeah," she said softly, sighing as she pulled the pillow a bit closer to her chest. Like she needed some kind of safeguard or barrier in front of her. "I was…uh…" She cleared her throat and offered a pinched sort of smile. She seemed flustered and a little bit embarrassed too. "I was actually just…trying to think of what Hiro's reaction would be. If he saw this. And…what we were doing. I was trying to think of what he would say, or do. Whether he'd be sad or happy or…" She trailed off, not sure on what she should say to finish it. She just shrugged, hoping that it would do a good enough job.

Tadashi didn't find fault in the idea, though. He just pursed his lips, looking from her to the television. "How many times have you watched it?" he asked, the question a little awkward. But it had been a few days now since they had been live on the television. Somehow he was a little skeptical of the idea that this was the first time his aunt had done this. And though it was a reasonable thing for Aunt Cass to do, it couldn't be a very healthy one— not if she watched it over and over again.

Cass smiled tiredly. "Only a few times," she murmured. Her expression was almost thoughtful. "I just…really hope that he saw this," she went on to admit. "Wherever he is…I want him to know that we're still looking for him. The thought of him just…thinking that we abandoned him…is awful." She swallowed with a small grimace. "I want to know that he saw this. And that he knows that we love him…and want him home." Her expression flickered, and her lips quivered into a frown now. Her voice was a tad bit more congested once she brought herself to go on. "I just…don't know where he is," she sighed.

Tadashi deflated at this. He turned and glanced at her, his expression darker. But he forced his voice to come out lighter, and more encouraging. "I'm sure he knows, wherever he is," he reassured her immediately. "He can't think that we would be anything but completely shaken up about this." He meant it as a joke, but it fell a little bit flatter than he really intended. So he cleared his throat and started over. "Aunt Cass, he won't stay gone forever. You know? He loves us. So he'll come back. I know he will. He'd never think that we would just be sitting around with him gone. He's smarter than that."

There was a brief pause. Aunt Cass seemed the slightest bit reassured. "I know," she said, a soft grin spreading over her face at the thought. She glanced at her eldest nephew. "He always _was_ so smart. Just like you are." Tadashi returned the smile, and Cass looked back at the TV. There was a large gap of silence. Then she added in a small murmur: "I just really…would like to know what he would think. Or what…he would _do_ when he saw us."

Tadashi looked back as well. They were still on the television; Tadashi hadn't realized how long this segment was. It was more than five minutes, at the very least. Now the camera was aimed back on him and Aunt Cass. Tadashi's expression softened as, on camera, Professor Callaghan moved through the crowd to approach them. He watched as his instructor moved forward, wrapping Aunt Cass into a close hug. Part of Tadashi was still so touched and surprised that his teacher had come. Tadashi hadn't even approached him personally about it; he must have gotten word from somewhere else, and still thought it important to go. Tadashi had always considered Professor Callaghan a great man as it was, but now his opinion was ever higher.

A smile crossed over his face. He gave a small nod, as if answering some question that hadn't been asked. Callaghan was leaning over, grabbing hold of Tadashi's wrist and drawing Tadashi into the embrace as well. "I don't think you should worry about it," he said softly. He watched the exchange, once again feeling that same sense of relief in the knowledge that things might be okay from here on out. Maybe not today, and unfortunately maybe not tomorrow.

But someday.

"I think if he saw this, he would be _so_ relieved," Tadashi reassured her. "And he'd feel so fortunate to know that so many people are waiting for him to come back home."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He hadn't been keen on the idea at first. His own sense of innate fear was enough to keep him from not touching the camera ever since he had thrown it into the corner. Well, he wasn't stupid enough to leave it there out in the open. He'd stuffed it back underneath the bed shortly after he'd thrown it. But he was still acutely aware of the camera's presence. It was burning a hole in the back of his mind. For a long while, he had gone without giving into the temptation of looking at it a second time. He couldn't bring himself to, after the mental slip in which he had almost forgiven Callaghan for all that he did.

But eventually, even if you had the best of reasoning, you would buckle underneath the pressure of something regardless of what it was. For him, he had buckled at around five in the morning. He was on the floor, staring off into space like he always did. Once he woke up from sleep, there was never a very good chance that he could coax himself to drift away again.

The puppy had been left in his room again. It had run around and offered Hiro a happy distraction for a while, but before too long, it had curled up by his head and fell into a snooze. So when Hiro woke up again to realize that the dog was sleep snoring gently, he was left to his own thoughts.

Such thoughts then spread to the camera behind him, like they typically did. But this time, Hiro wasn't able to quell the desire to wriggle it back out. He twisted around, being careful and trying not to jar the sleeping animal awake. Just because he was plagued by insomnia, didn't mean that he could force it on others. Especially not onto her— who had been giving him so much relief recently. So he was careful, and he managed to grope in the dark for the camera and retrieve it without making the dog aware in the slightest.

He shifted and pushed himself up with a deep flinch. His back was permanently screwed up, he was starting to think. He felt like there was a huge, thick needle inserted in the small of his back, too deep to reach back and rip out, no matter how much he wanted to. Well…it felt like it was less of a needle, and more of a huge pole— like the one you would see on the street. Regardless of what metaphor would work the best, he had to keep himself from screaming out in agony as he shifted to sit up.

He remembered how to work it. And whether it was more of a desire to know more about Abigail and possibly connect a few more dots, or whether it was just because he was at a loss of what else to do, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he couldn't take the oppressing silence that always crushed him once the house got dark and Callaghan went to sleep. So he opened the camera and he watched more videotapes, being careful to keep the volume low just in case Robert was awake or listening for him.

The cards of memory were still unlabeled. So he could not watch the installments in order. He didn't know whether that was good for him, or whether it was the opposite. He told himself it didn't matter. He just focused on the tapes, and the tiny images that flickered over the screen. It was a wide array of things, the only similarity in each being that they included Abigail. There was one where she went bowling with a group of friends, which included Hikaru. Another and she was filming some kind of parade, laughing shrilly every so often behind the lens.

There was another one, and the scenery changed from the beginning of fall to what seemed to be late winter. Snow was blanketing some kind of a forest. There was a large pond on the other end of the camera that was frozen over with a thick sheet of ice. Abigail was shuffling through the snow awkwardly, pointing her camera down at the ice skates that were laced to her feet. "I'm coming!" she chirped, a grin evident on her face just by the sound of her voice. "Just hang on!"

As the camera was levelled out, it showed she was getting closer to the edge of the pond. Hiro's heart sank as he saw that Callaghan was already out, skating back and forth on the ice as he waited for his daughter. When he looked up at her, his expression seemed slightly cross. "Abigail, please leave that!" he shouted. "You're going to drop it! Or break it! And I'm _not_ going to buy you a new one!"

Abigail snorted. "You would _totally_ buy me a new one," she objected. Callaghan sighed where he stood, but he didn't try and find fault in the reply. He just grinned, watching as Abigail stepped out onto the ice and start to slide awkwardly. She yelped, having to twist sharply to the side in order to keep from falling. "Aw, geez— I forgot how hard this was," she laughed. She shifted her hold on the camera to make sure she wouldn't prove her father right and drop it. Then she turned and aimed the lens in his direction. "You look like a duck, Dad," she said, watching as he shuffled a little awkwardly this way and that to keep from slipping.

"And you look like an irritating daughter," Callaghan sighed good-naturedly, throwing her a glare that held nothing but humor.

Abigail giggled, turning in a tight little circle. "I am an _adorable_ irritating daughter," she quipped.

"Is that what you think?" Callaghan asked. Abigail started to reply, when suddenly Robert rushed forward, a little clumsily given that he was still untrained on his feet. But he reached over and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her up into the air and making her shriek in shock. The camera was shaking and whirling around as Robert fought to stay up and hold her at the same time. He started to spin her around, Abigail dissolving into a fit of laughter with the jarring motion.

Hiro watched with a heavy look as Callaghan slipped. The pair of them fell down on the ice with a thud, Abigail saving herself and the camera thanks to the fact that she fell on her father. There was a gap of silence as the shock of the fumble registered. However, soon after the slip, they both started to crack up. Abigail turned, pointing the camera over at her father from where she had rolled to the side. Callaghan was doubled over, his eyes watering over as his face turned red with hilarity.

Hiro skipped over the rest of the video, feeling too sick to follow it through.

There was another one shortly after. Abigail was on the floor of the living room, sitting by the same Christmas tree that Hiro had been by earlier. Her legs were crossed, and her head was resting on a dog that was sitting in her lap— Hiro felt a pang in his stomach as he realized that it was a similar breed to the one he had now. It was a slightly darker color, and it wasn't a puppy anymore; it was much bigger. It had actually grown into its tail and its paws, unlike Hiro's. But it was still nearly a carbon copy.

Why was he even surprised, though?

Abigail flashed the camera a smile. She reached up and brushed a lock of her short hair behind her ear. "Merry Christmas Eve!" she sang, her voice straying purposefully off-key. "What do you think Santa's going to get you for Christmas, Dad?" Hiro tried to judge how she old she was at this moment in comparison to what he'd already seen. She seemed a little younger than she had been in the video where she was getting ready to leave with Hikaru for her school dance. But Hiro wasn't really sure what that meant. Was she closer to his age? She kind of looked the part. But he couldn't be sure.

Robert laughed from behind the camera. "Something as good as what I'm going to give you right now."

Abigail tilted her head to the side in confusion. The dog in her lap turned and wriggled out of her lap, trotting away. She seemed disappointed at the rejection, but turned nevertheless. From behind the camera, Callaghan reached out, extending a small wrapped box. "A present on Christmas Eve?" she asked, her eyebrows pulling together skeptically as she reached up for the parcel. "How special am I, huh?" She took the thing and brought it back down to where she was sitting. Without any hesitation at all, she ripped apart the paper to reveal the small box underneath.

She popped the lid off of the small box, and she looked down at what was contained. Her eyes lit up immediately. "No way!" she gushed, a smile spreading over her face. She reached inside and withdrew a necklace. It was a thin, and a bright gold. At the end of each side of the chain, there were two gold rings, which intersected in the middle. It wouldn't be a necklace if the two circles were not connected. She turned and grinned up at her father. "This is so pretty!" she gasped. "I love it!"

"I thought you might," Robert remarked, sounding more than satisfied with the reaction. Abigail leaned forward, reaching back and staring to lock the necklace into place. "I saw it at the store, and I immediately thought of you. I liked the design." There was a small pause before he moved on to add: "Not to mention that I thought it would look very pretty on you."

She let her arms drop, having put the necklace on with ease. She looked down at the two connected rings, and she gushed again. "That's really sweet, Dad. I'm surprised."

"I'm going to choose not to take that as an insult," Callaghan replied.

"Oh, shush," Abigail sighed. "You're the best, Dad. Thank you. I love it," she repeated. "It's got both of us there!" She touched the two rings gently. "Two circles for two people. It's great!"

"I'm glad you think so," he said. "I thought it would be perfect for you."

"Perfect for us both," she smiled. She turned and pushed herself up to go over and hug him tightly. "Thank you," she reiterated. "I really do love it. And I love _you_. I always will."

"You know I—"

Hiro skipped over the rest of that video, too.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Tadashi was sitting at the dinner table, having been put there rather forcibly by Aunt Cass. After he had been working so hard all day in the café, Cass wasn't about to let him do anything else. To be honest, it was a little bit of relief, considering he was sapped of energy after the hustle and bustle. He'd made a point to serve almost every customer just so Aunt Cass didn't have to. She was distracted and sidetracked, today of all days. And given that the café was usually always open on Christmas Eve anyway, Tadashi just took it upon himself to run things.

He made coffee and doled out pastries and handed out napkins and took tips and said a swift 'Merry Christmas' to anyone and everyone he could. He was so busy that he wasn't even able to think about the fact that Hiro was gone and it was the day before Christmas. Which meant that such a fact was probably all Aunt Cass could think of. But at least she didn't have to work at the same time.

A few people had tried to talk to Tadashi about Hiro, and a few tried to comfort him. But he wasn't about to stop and linger over it. Such a thing would have just led him to breaking down, and then nobody would have been able to manage the café. It had been long and it had been hard, solely for the effort of not getting lost in a wave of grief and sorrow. But it had worked brilliantly. He was able to distract himself for the duration of the day.

Now it was evening, he was tired, and Aunt Cass was just starting to set out dinner. It was meatloaf; he could smell it from here. He could already tell that it would be delicious. Which wasn't a surprise when it came to her, of course. Aunt Cass turned and walked over with a plate to put it down in front of Tadashi, who grinned in reply. She turned to fetch her own. "Thank you for all your hard work today, Tadashi," she sighed, smiling tiredly. "Honestly, I have no idea what I would be doing right now if it wasn't for you."

"Of course," he said with a grin. "It's my pleasure."

There was a small pause of silence. Then Aunt Cass turned and set up her own plate. She sat down across from Tadashi, picking up her fork and starting to delve into her meal. Both of them were already trying to craft up conversations they could have together, like they always did now. If there were no pre-planned ones, then everything had the potential to fall flat. And that was the last thing that they wanted. "So…when does school start again?" she asked.

"It starts a week into January," Tadashi replied. He started to eat too, Aunt Cass' cooking as good as it always was. "I'm excited." As excited as he could be, that was. "I'm really going to finish up my Robotics Project this semester. I'm going to ask Professor Callaghan for some help. I think it'll turn out really great."

Aunt Cass smiled. "You're almost a quarter of the way done with college," she said.

He grinned. "Don't remind me. It'll drag."

"No," she objected gently. She gave a small smile that seemed a little sad, prodding at her food with her fork. There was a long stretch of silence, in which Tadashi gave up eating and turned instead to look over at her with a stroke of worry. She shook her head and cleared her throat. "It'll go by so quickly." The words seemed a little too hollow to be encouraging. After a hesitation she turned and looked over at the empty chair between them— where Hiro would normally sit. She didn't say anything more. She just stared at the vacant spot. At the emptiness.

Aunt Cass didn't try to make any other conversation. She just sat still and stared at the chair, her expression crawling over with sorrow the longer she gazed in its direction. Tadashi frowned. He tried to think of something he could say in reply, but he couldn't think of anything that would help enough. And he didn't think that he could even bring himself to find another topic to transition to. Not decently. It felt too wrong. He couldn't do that— not tonight.

He just turned and looked at Hiro's spot too. He forgot his meal for the time being.

It was Christmas Eve. Usually it was spent watching cheesy movies and listening to just-as-cheesy songs, thinking of everything good that had happened that year and talking about anything and everything. Tonight was supposed to be fun, and tomorrow was supposed to be even more so. But now it was hollow. Now they were just sitting across from each other, not talking— not even looking at the other.

They were just staring at what was missing.

At what had been yawning a gaping hole in their lives, and what was only getting bigger and bigger.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro was actually sleeping for once. He'd slept through the entire night, really. That was a rare thing— usually he was woken up at some point, jarred awake by either a miniscule noise from somewhere else in the house, or just by his own panic growing a mind of its own and shaking him into consciousness. But now it was past 9:00 am and he was still sleeping, unbothered since he had fallen asleep at 11:00 pm. The puppy was curled up right beside his head, her fuzzy fur reacting to every deep inhale and exhale that the boy gave. The only time of peace was when Hiro was asleep, and for once, the moment was turning out to be much longer than usual.

But the moment couldn't last, of course. There was a sharp rattling noise— the silver beads hanging in the doorway acting as an alarm for an incoming visitor. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Hiro to break into a spasm of shock, his eyes immediately snapping open as he went rigid. Panic immediately spread through his body in a rush of heat, and a shallow gasp scraped against his throat. The reaction alerted the puppy too, who yelped and shot up to her feet, apparently surprised.

"Hiro!" Hiro's expression clouded, the boy grimacing deeply as Callaghan's voice drifted over to him. He sounded bubbly and happy, so already Hiro was anxious. He turned and looked over to the door, seeing that Robert was pushing his way into the room. He walked over and only stopped once he was able to crouch down beside Hiro. The boy was still groggy, despite the stoke of fear he'd experienced upon being woken up. He groaned in the back of his throat, wincing against the pain in his back left after the convulsion. "Hiro! Wake up! Don't you know what day it is?"

Hiro didn't move, his eyes closing hard as he grimaced. He locked his jaw backwards and swallowed, finding it painful to do so. He hadn't had a drink in so long. His headache was already pounding back into life, and he whined underneath his breath. He knew what day it was. He couldn't mistake it, even if he wanted to. And God, he wanted to. He wanted to so bad.

 _Stop. You're_ already _going to start crying, and you woke up five seconds ago. Try not to be so_ pathetic _._

 _It's_ today. _Oh, God, I came here November 14_ _th_ _and it's December 25_ _th_ _…_

 _Shut. Up._

"It's Christmas!" Callaghan said, his voice clenched tight in excitement. "It's our first together, isn't that wonderful?" The puppy chirped, transitioning from sniffing at Robert to sniffing at Hiro. Her tail was wagging so hard it was shaking the rest of her body. Hiro tried to focus on her every movement instead of anything else, his eyes dull. Callaghan leaned to the side, trying to catch his gaze with that same eager smile. "Merry Christmas, Hiro. It's the very first of many!"

Hiro didn't react, he just gave a slow blink. He swallowed painfully a second time, fighting a wince in reaction.

"I know you don't have a gift for me," Callaghan said, turning and taking to sitting down now. "That's alright, I understand. You being here is gift enough." Hiro nearly gagged, but he bit back the sensation before it could come to light. "But I do have a gift for you. Something very special, and something I think you'll like." Hiro was starving, but the mere thought of food nearly made him sick. "I thought you might like to open it now, rather than wait for tonight. Hm? I brought it up here for you." He felt awful. He just wanted to sleep. He wanted to sleep and he wanted to go home. "Hiro? Hiro, don't you want to open the present I got for you?" Everything hurt. Everything hurt too much to even _complain_ about one specific thing anymore. "Hiro?"

He pried his eyelids open. His expression was wrenched thick with agony, and he grimaced against even the faint light was seeping through to the room. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his muddled vision as best he could. He was forced to pause for a second, having to think in order to realize where he was position-wise. Was he sitting up? Laying down? Face-up? Where was the confusion coming from? It took him about ten whole seconds for the connection to be made. He was laying on his side— the same way he always was. His bad leg was splayed awkwardly, and he was in some kind of a half-curled position, thanks to the crick in his back.

He pushed himself up, gritting his teeth against the burst of pain that he knew would follow. And follow it did. He nearly bit his tongue straight through in his efforts to keep himself from screaming. Once he was up, he exhaled against the nausea, clearing his throat and managing to open one eye from his flinch. Callaghan was holding out a small box, and as soon as Hiro caught sight of it, the pain became secondary. Instead he perked, and his face fell.

No.

"I….I don't want to open it now," he stammered. "I can wait."

Callaghan grinned. "Oh, come now, Hiro. It's Christmas! Open it!"

Hiro winced. His voice came out quieter: "I…I really would rather wait. Until tonight. …Please."

Callaghan's grin wavered. The light in his eyes began to die and blink out. When he spoke next, his voice took on a sterner edge. "Hiro, I would like to see you open the present now," he said. They boy didn't react at first, just staring miserably forward. Robert held the box closer, his eyes narrowing a little bit. "Hiro, I would like you to open your present please." The way he said this, made it clear that he wasn't asking, so much as he was telling. The man held the box even closer. "Now."

Hiro grimaced away.

 _Oh my_ God _, you are so ridiculous. Take the damn present._

Shakily, the child reached out. He took the small parcel, and paused only to regard it with a morose stare. He hesitated long enough before he began to unwrap it. Hiro ripped at the snowman paper, tearing it away in slow strips. He wanted nothing more than to throw it across the room, or at least put it off longer. But there was no escaping this one. His chest felt heavy as he peeled the last of the paper off. He put the trash aside and found himself looking at a small, thin box.

Right.

The jury was out.

Hiro grabbed the top of the box and wriggled it off. He put that aside too. But all of the slow movements in the world couldn't delay it forever. Eventually he was forced to look down at what was inside. And he was horrified and unsurprised at the same time with what met him. He knew that he recognized it, he had just not wanted to believe it. He'd hoped that his assumption would turn out false— that his paranoia would go unfounded, and he'd be left thinking: "Well that was a dumb thing to be worried about. Of course it wasn't _that_."

So far, such a relieving thought hadn't been able to occur to him— not even _once_.

Callaghan was staring at him closely, like always. And when Hiro fell still, he raised his eyebrows expectantly. "Well?" he pressed, his voice beginning to slowly lose its hard edge. But the tone still lingered in the background, as if serving to warn Hiro of the consequence to further insubordination. Hiro still didn't move, just staring down. He seemed to be too absorbed in thought— his face was crowded with it. "Go on, Hiro," Callaghan ordered a second time. "Don't you like it? It's my gift for you."

He closed his eyes briefly. Listless, he reached inside and grabbed hold of the delicate thing. He told himself to get over it and just say thank you. But it was hard to even look at it, let alone handle it. He swallowed and turned, looking down and pulling his eyelids apart.

He held the small necklace in the palm of his hand, the chain spooling loosely around two connected rings of gold. He expected more horror to wash over him once he faced the present fully, but all he could get was a sense of deep sorrow. It was _her_ necklace. It was the same exact necklace he had watched Abigail open on the old tape.

Callaghan was still smiling. "Don't you like it?" he demanded. Hiro didn't reply. He turned and put the box down, shifting to hold one of the rings in each hand. His expression was hollow and empty. He remembered how Abigail's eyes had lit up. How she'd oozed over with affection and how she'd seemed too excited to sit still. She'd gotten up and hugged her father, her eyes lit up like twin stars. Callaghan was looking for a similar reaction from Hiro. And why wouldn't he? According to him, the two kids were one in the same.

Hiro blinked slowly. He noticed that there was a little bit of wear and tear on the necklace. The gold wasn't as pristine. Especially around the rings, it was dulled over considerably. How many times had she worn this? Had she even taken it off once it had been given to her? He imagined her reaching up to clasp at her necklace absent-mindedly, during tests or just talking to someone else, just for comfort and familiarity. Had she treasured this? Had she…had she died with it on? How was it here?

"Hiro?" The way Callaghan said this silently demanded an answer. A reaction.

Hiro had put it off as long as he could. Weakly, he tried his best to hide the disgust itching underneath his skin. "It's a…it's a necklace," he said. There was a general rule of thumb that if someone said the name of the present after opening it, you had made a mistake in your shopping, and they were probably already planning on throwing it away. In this case, such a reaction would be a pretty clear-cut understatement. Callaghan continued to stare at him, and so Hiro realized that more was needed. He coughed in the back of his throat and dragged something else up. "It looks…nice." Again, any able-minded person would hear such a reply and instantly realize that their gift choice was less than stellar.

But Callaghan's smile only grew. "It used to be Abigail's," he said, the information entirely old news to the boy. But Hiro didn't say anything. He just continued to stare down at the chain, more out of the desire to avoid eye contact with Robert. "But I thought that it would be a good idea to give this to you now." Hiro still didn't move, and Robert leaned over, taking the necklace out of Hiro's hand and moving to clasp it on him. Hiro flinched, biting down on his lower lip. Callaghan just continued to lock the jewelry together, a small snap indicating when it had been fastened securely.

Robert pulled back and grinned at the sight that met him. Hiro reluctantly brought his gaze up to meet the other's. The weight of the necklace seemed to be a million times more than it really was. The cold touch of the metal seemed to burn and brand his skin. But he didn't try to take it off or voice a compliant. He was too smart to do that. At the reluctant compliance, Callaghan beamed. "It's perfect," he said, a chill lancing itself down Hiro's spine. "It looks so good on you. Just like it did on her."

There was a beat of silence that seemed to stretch into years. Hiro's throat was swelled and constricted, but he tried to ignore it. He was getting better and better at doing that.

Instead, he just tried to offer a small smile to the man across from him. He hoped it looked convincing. "Thank you," he murmured softly, his words hardly a whisper. They burned his tongue on the way out, and they tasted awful. "I…" He tried to get it out. 'I love it.' It was what Abigail had said, after all. Why couldn't he do the same?

Maybe because, despite how many times it had been screamed at him, he really wasn't Abigail.

Rather than finish the thought, he tried to change the subject. "I…found a name," he said, drawing his good leg up close to his chest. Callaghan seemed confused at the statement, so Hiro backtracked. He turned and looked down at the puppy, who had taken to swatting at her own tail. The young boy sobered, his expression growing a bit wearier. "I…want to give her a name. If…I can."

Robert frowned. "Well, Hiro, I was already thinking that she could be called what Abigail's old dog was called. It seems only right, doesn't it?"

Hiro blinked, deflating a little bit. "W-Well, I just wanted…I just wanted to maybe…name her myself…"

Callaghan still seemed dubious for a moment. Hiro felt a tug in his chest. He didn't want his dog named after Abigail's. He was already wearing Abigail's flannel shirt; he was already in her room. His hair had already been styled after hers, and now he was wearing her old necklace. He wanted this one thing – the one thing that gave him a sense of happiness now – to be _his._ It was bad enough it was the same breed as what she'd had. He just wanted a name that was completely special to him. He didn't have anything else private to him. Couldn't he have this _one_ thing?

"Please?" Hiro begged.

 _Don't._

"I just think…"

 _Don't even_ go _there._

He swallowed hard. Forced it out. He had to.

"I just think that I would be much happier if I got to name her. And I just…want to name her. Please." He grimaced and screamed at himself mentally one last time. But he didn't have a choice. He was desperate. This was his _last_ attempt at keeping something for himself. He was adamant on this one; there _couldn't_ be another option. He was fit to beg for this. Beg, or…something just as awful… "…Dad."

The word was like magic. Immediately, Callaghan went off like a lightbulb. He absolutely glowed, his face splitting in a huge smile. His eyes gleamed and Hiro watched sorrowfully as the man could hardly contain himself, wriggling in excitement. "You— what did you say, Hiro?" he asked, his voice hushed and tight with excitement. Hiro didn't reply, and Callaghan pressured further. "Hiro, what did you say?"

Hiro was stiff. When he replied, his voice was tiny and shaking: "I said…I wanted…to name her…"

"After that," Callaghan said quickly. "After that, what did you call me?"

 _Great going. You idiot._

He choked back a swallow. He grimaced and whispered in a quivering voice: "…Dad…"

Callaghan seemed to get choked up. He grinned, straightening and shooting forward. He grabbed Hiro up in bone-crushing hug, the young boy forced to bite down on the inside of his cheek to hold back a screech. His body went into a convulsion at the pain that was evoked by the embrace, which was more like a strangle. But Callaghan just swayed from side to side, petting the boy's hair and ducking his head tightly into his shoulder. "Oh, Hiro!" he laughed, nearly hysteric with elation. "You finally said it! I've been waiting…for so long, and you've finally said it!"

He shut his eyes tightly, gritting his teeth so hard that his head split in pain.

He waited, his heart in his chest. At first he wasn't sure whether or not it would have worked, and the thought was enough to make him scream. But eventually, Callaghan did speak up. "You can name her whatever you'd like, Hiro," he said, his grip not about to relax at all. He obviously had no plans on letting go of Hiro anytime soon. Something that Hiro unfortunately couldn't bring himself to change. Not in his condition. "I only want to make you happy."

He turned and looked down the puppy. He already had a name in mind. Quietly, wanting to say the word out loud at least, he murmured: "I want to name her Nozomi."

"Of course. It's a beautiful name," Callaghan reassured him. "I love it."

Hiro just continued to stare down at the dog. Nozomi. He'd picked the name the first night he'd slept beside her, and yet he'd never been brave enough to bring himself to use it, just in case Callaghan noticed and disagreed— which, apparently, he would have. Now it looked like he got what he wanted for once. Instead of following in Abigail's footsteps, for once, he finally had something of his. A name for his dog.

Nozomi.

He stifled a gag as he was pulled even tighter. Callaghan wasn't even aware of the young boy's torture.

He'd gotten this one thing for himself.

But…was the cost worth it?

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

' _Tadashi! Tadashi, wake up!_ ' He groaned as the voice, high-pitched with excitement, broke through his sleep. The teenager's forehead creased, and he only closed his eyes tighter. But the voice was incessant, and refused to be ignored. ' _Tadashi! Tadashi come on! It's getting late and I'm not going to wait for you much longer! We've got presents! Get up, get up, get up!_ ' Eventually, he had no choice but to give in. He opened his eyes and a smile spread over his lips. Hiro was standing at his bedside, his hands on his hips and his face flushed with anger. ' _It's about time! I thought you would never get up!_ '

But Tadashi still didn't get up. He just laid on the bed, staring at Hiro with the same little smile. His younger brother huffed, dropping to his knees and putting his chin on the edge of the bed with a scowl. ' _You're taking forever_ ,' he growled. ' _Aunt Cass is tired of waiting, and so am I. So will you come downstairs with me? Please? I want to open presents!_ '

Tadashi reached up and rubbed his eyes, brushing away the last bit of sleep that hung over him. And once he snapped himself awake and dragged his mind back into reality, Hiro was gone. So were the pleas to come downstairs. The room was completely empty and silent, just like it always was.

He grimaced, turning and pushing himself up into a sitting position.

Last night, instead of braving the entire length of the room, Tadashi had instead collapsed onto the too-made bed of his younger brother. He'd fallen asleep there, his face buried in a pillow that was much too cold and stale. He thought that it would make him feel better. He thought that when he woke up, he might have some closure— or at least something close to it. Some peace of mind? But he felt the exact same. He still felt that hole in his heart. Nothing had changed.

He looked at the clock and realized that it was later than he'd ever slept in on Christmas before. It was nearly noon. Usually, thanks to Hiro, he and Aunt Cass were up before eight. And thanks to the young boy's continued urging, they would usually be done with presents before nine. Without Hiro to carry out the job, apparently it would not be done. From the sounds of it, Aunt Cass was still asleep as well.

Wiping at his face again, Tadashi lingered where he was, curled up on his side. He stayed on his brother's bed, not exactly having enough strength to tear himself away. But eventually, after ten or so minutes passed, he got too worried to stay put. He wondered where Aunt Cass was, and as the silence stretched on, he could not ignore the need to get up and find out. He turned and ripped himself away from his brother's bed. He headed down the stairs and tried not to feel guilty. It was harder than he'd thought it would be. But where the guilt originated, he wasn't too sure.

When he got downstairs, Tadashi caught sight of Aunt Cass sitting on the floor. Her back was to Tadashi as she faced the tree, and the boy perked a little uneasily. He cleared his throat and tilted his head to the side. "Aunt Cass?" he asked. She didn't reply— she didn't even twitch at the sound of his voice. Starting to feel panicked, Tadashi thought of the worst case scenario. Though even still, he wasn't even sure what that was himself. He just rushed down the rest of the steps, his eyes wide and confused as he hurried to the tree. "Aunt Cass?" he repeated. "Aunt Cass, are you alright?"

She didn't turn at first. But when she did, Tadashi was a little bit surprised to see that she appeared perfectly fine. She wasn't even crying. She just seemed surprised at the level of anxiety in his voice. "Oh. Tadashi," she said. "You're finally awake. I wanted to come and get you, but…" _That was what Hiro always used to do._ She didn't say this aloud, but she might as well have. She paused a bit but then cleared her throat. "Well! We've got some presents here!" she chirped, turning back to the tree and the boxes underneath. Tadashi frowned. "How about you start? I'll get some lunch ready."

"Aunt Cass, are you alright?" Tadashi asked, concerned as he watched her get up and make for the kitchen.

"Of course I am," she said. The guardian turned, rummaging through the cabinets and looking for something she could whip up. "Now come on! I have a few presents under there that you'll really love; I just know it."

But Tadashi didn't move. Something was wrong. She was too excited— too peppy. She'd been upset every day leading up to this one. Could she really have recovered this quickly? He _knew_ that couldn't be true. It just wasn't that simple— nothing was. Even he was saddened by today, and he had been handling this whole thing the best out of the two of them.

But he decided not to pry. He couldn't bring himself to batter her or demand answers, not when she seemed so at ease. That would be too mean. He just kept where he was, glancing from her to the tree. Then the teenager reluctantly turned and took out the first wrapped box he saw with his name on it. It was pretty big, and a perfect square. He tried to guess what was in it, wanting to wait for when Aunt Cass would come back from the kitchen to actually open it.

Silence filled the house, only broken by the clatter and bang of pans every so often.

Tadashi was starting to wonder whether or not this was some sort of dream.

Because it certainly seemed odd.

After a while, the pots and pans stopped. Aunt Cass' voice drifted over to where Tadashi was sitting, who roused at once. "There's…" Tadashi turned, his eyebrows pulling together at once in concern. He twisted around and looked over to see that Aunt Cass had halted over the stove. She was staring off into space, looking distracted again. Her cheer seemed to be gone. And when she spoke, her voice betrayed her collected façade entirely— instead, she sounded mournful now, as if she was speaking at someone's funeral. "There's always next year. Right?"

Tadashi didn't say anything. His chest felt hot.

She turned and look at him, her eyes shining far too much now. Her voice came out in the smallest of whispers, yet it was heard as well as if she were screaming at the top of her lungs. "He'll be back for this next year, right?" she asked. Still, Tadashi was mute, unsure of what to say. How _could_ he reply? But the fact that her nephew couldn't bring himself to speak seemed to be digging at his aunt. She tensed, her voice becoming strained, and she pressed on shakily: " _Right_!?"

He landed on the only thing that he could. It wasn't anything satisfying whatsoever. And he knew that.

But it was the only thing he could say that would keep him from lying to her.

"I don't know," he confessed in a rasp, his own voice beginning to weaken. "….I hope so."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: Okay I was going to go on, but this is sixteen pages in size 8.5 font and I need to stop lol. I apologize if the ending is a little off. Hopefully the length makes up for it! Yet rest assured that just means I have the next chapter planned out already. And yes, Nozomi's name means something. It means hope or little wish in Japanese! A fitting name for Hiro to give! She was the first thing I thought of when I thought this story up, so I'm excited to write more. And for another thing I have coming up, as well! ;)

Anyway, I hope that you all will like this chapter! And you're excited for everything to come! I appreciate all of the feedback I get; every time I get a review for this story, I get that much happier! So thank you, a lot! It helps not only encourage me, but I'm also able to grow as a writer, which is awesome! :D

I'm excited to write the next chapter! I've got some interesting things planned for the next few to come! As always, please excuse any typos, and I shall see you in ten reviews!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I spent so much time researching in order to write this chapter, folks.

I'm worn out.

But hours of research and I _still_ do not know the date of Hiro's birthday.

I'm _very_ worn out.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"5…4…3…2… _1_! _Happy New Year_!" they all shouted, grinning from ear-to-ear as confetti shot out of small poppers, and noise makers roared in the oncoming twelve months with obnoxious blares. It was how every year was brought into play, and this was nothing different. Music was being played from a stereo, and Gogo and Wasabi were dancing together, laughing at their own dance moves, which were admittedly pretty questionable. Fred was raiding what was left of the snacks that had been put out, looking only concerned with eating more of Cass' delicious food. And Honey Lemon was standing off to the side, her hands clasped behind her back as she took to just watching what was happening across the room.

Tadashi was sitting on the couch, his smile starting to wilt just slightly now that the countdown had passed. It didn't go away entirely, but all the same, it was a little bit deflated in comparison. He was watching the television, and the New Year's Celebration that was still going on. It wasn't much— it was just the same old celebrities singing the same old songs that had been played over and over before. But he watched it all the same, finding interest in what he used to make fun of before.

Aunt Cass was making drinks of sparkling grape juice for the kids. She was vehemently opposed to even offering them any sort of alcoholic beverages, despite the fact that it would only be a small cup, and most of them were almost eligible to drink legally now anyways. But nobody was willing to try and tease her over it— not when she had been in such a good mood the entire night. Even now, she was grinning as she handed out the glasses. She took her own cup, which was filled with champagne, and she turned to go and sit down beside Tadashi.

Her nephew glanced at her as she sat, regaining his smile immediately as he realized that she was there. "Happy New Year, Aunt Cass," he said warmly. She grinned and leaned over, reaching out to draw him into a tight hug. Juggling his new glass of grape juice, he returned the gesture tightly, and Honey Lemon's smile turned a little sad at the exchange from where she stood. Tadashi pulled back and raised his eyebrows a little bit, his expression turning a bit anxious. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice dropping into a low murmur.

Aunt Cass leaned back as well, and offered him a gentle smile. Her eyes seemed a bit watery, but when she replied, she managed to keep her voice steady enough. The expression wavered, but she kept it all the same, resolving herself to it. "Yeah," she replied, nodding once. "I'm fine." Tadashi seemed a little dubious, but it was mostly out of worry and concern for her, rather than distrust. He still remembered the way that she had held herself on Christmas, and how strung-out she had been. It was hard to ignore someone's absence; but it was even worse when there was a holiday or a big event, when you could do nothing but notice the gaping hole beside you.

"You sure?" he asked gently. He knew that he probably shouldn't push or pry; he would probably just make everything worse by digging further into her and what was going on. But he was too worried to take her word for it that she was getting by. He had to _know_. He cared too much for her to just disregard whatever she might truly be feeling.

Aunt Cass just offered another nod, turning and taking a small sip of her champagne. She considered her reply for a few moments before offering another smile, albeit pinched. "It's a new year," she reminded him. "I think…this one will be even better than the last." It would have to be, wouldn't it? There wasn't much more they could handle; if it got even worse, they would both be pretty hung out to dry. In laymen's terms, that was. "I think…things will start to look up from here on out."

Tadashi softened, and a grin spread across his face. "Yeah," he said, his voice turning a little brighter with the hope. "Of course! It'll all turn out! I know it will." He leaned over and squeezed her hand reassuringly, where it was resting on her lap. She turned and looked at him, a grateful smile gracing her features. He nodded firmly in return, not allowing any space for doubt or hesitation. "We'll find him. He'll be home this year. Very soon."

She welled up. In a rush, his gaurdian leaned over and wrapped him in a tight hug for a second time, now refusing to let go. Tadashi returned the embrace just as hard. When Aunt Cass moved to speak, her voice was a little bit more congested and choked. Yet despite the fact that there was a bit of sorrow in her tone, each syllable radiated with happiness as well. "You are so special to me," she gushed, her voice soft. "I love you very much; you're my special little guy, and you always will be. I want you to know that, okay? And don't you ever forget it."

He smiled, and tightened his grip even more. "I won't forget," he reassured. "I could _never_ forget." There was another small hesitation before he added a little softer: "And neither could Hiro, Aunt Cass. He knows too. I know he does."

Tadashi couldn't see Aunt Cass' reaction, but he did hear her sniff as he brought this up. Her shoulders shook a little bit, and it was clear that Tadashi had struck a chord. But her reply was just as bracing. "I know," she cried. "I know he does. I know." She held tight to Tadashi and clearly had no intention of offering a release. Because that was how it was now; she was too scared to let go of Tadashi, just in case he too was ripped away from her.

But Tadashi was more than willing to stay here like this, if only to help alleviate her pain.

It was better way to think, instead of facing the fact that he was just as scared of losing her as well.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Time is relative.

Not in the whole sense that it is man-made and really shouldn't exist, no. That was just for people to think about at four in the morning when they were much too tired to focus on things that were actually sane. But this line of thought _was_ true in the sense that it was never consistent. It never felt the same. When a student was in an hour that they hated – in Hiro's case, it was hands-down a band class – it dragged like a sloth. A minute felt like a year, and every fervent glance towards the clock was only met with disappointment at the fact that the second hand only moved an inch.

When that same student was on Spring Break, however, time was the complete opposite. It flew by so quickly, that in two seconds, they were back in a chair, watching a dull lecture over the intricacies of melodic minor scales. It had been two weeks of ice cream and rain and activities, and Netflix. A majority of time spent on the latter, if it was in the case of someone like Hiro. But still. Two whole weeks, and it was all gone in an instant. Before someone could even really pause to drink it all in, the time had slipped through their fingers like sand.

And yet when they were back in class, they couldn't manage to shake it free. It clung to them and it refused to be lost. Time acted as quicksand, pulling them down and enclosing them in its harsh clutches. Hiro remembered instances when time had been quick. When he had passed an entire day with Tadashi that had seemed like mere minutes. When Aunt Cass had taken them both on vacation for two weeks and by the end of it, it felt like they had just gotten off the plane. Time used to fly by. One moment was here, and then it had sped away.

It wasn't like that anymore. He was in the sucking confines of it, now. Every day was like ten years, and the sheer frustration that was building on top of him made it feel like he was close to screeching at the top of his lungs for as long as humanly possible. He was angry, he was irritated, he was terrified, and he was just so _sad_. There were a million other emotions, yet none of them didn't help make things go any faster.

It all dragged.

New Year's came and went.

January went soon after.

February followed suit.

March and April, too.

Then May.

The months crawled by, each day a slow twist of the knife seated in Hiro's heart.

He couldn't do anything to stop it.

He could only take the pain and struggle against it, however much it hurt.

And, God…did it hurt.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Do you _hear_ that?" she demanded, her voice spiking now with irritation. It was the fifth time she had asked, and by now, both of them were getting annoyed. She was pacing from side to side, her eyes narrowing as she turned and looked out the window.

Her husband huffed, having the stifle the urge to groan as he looked up from his dinner. "Stacy, sit _down_ ," he stressed, looking down and stabbing at his dinner with his fork. "I told you— I can't hear anything. I _haven't_ heard anything for the past hour. Please just give it up. I grilled this steak for us, and I would kind of prefer it if it was _eaten_." When the woman still stood by the window, he reluctantly pushed back from the table. He turned and walked over to her, his voice adopting a gentler tone as he put a hand on her shoulder. "Look, are you going to relax?"

Stacy shook her head, reaching up and rubbing at her forehead. "I _heard_ something," she snapped, ignoring her husband's small sigh of disappointment. "I _keep_ hearing it. It's like…" She bit her lip and shook her head. "It's like a scream." She turned, looking at him with an expression that was slowly evolving something akin to fright. "We should call the police, Tony," she urged. Again, she had to ignore the look of frustration on his face. It was like he was looking at a kid that wouldn't stop begging for candy. "Maybe it could be something that's—"

"We're not calling the police," he huffed, shaking his head. When she looked as if she was about to retort, he went on, his voice raising in volume to talk over her. "I can't hear anything! And I've been here this whole time! We're not calling the police so they can wander around trying to find a noise. That just wastes time and money on their part. It's summer, Stacy; teenagers and kids are running around out there, causing all sorts of trouble. They're probably just down at the playground doing something stupid. Now can you please get away from the window and eat? We were having such a good night before this started. We were in the pool, I was grilling…" He offered her a grin, reaching over again to hold her in his arms, which she sighed at. "C'mon. Step away from the window," he pushed.

Stacy still seemed a little unsure. She frowned, turning and looking up at him. He grinned and leaned down to give her a peck on the lips. For a second or more, she smiled, and it looked as if she was about to cave and give in. However, shortly after her husband started to grin again, she said quietly: "Just one call."

He sighed, letting go of her. She spun around, looking apologetic now, but sticking to her guns. "Please? I'll take the blame for it all if nothing turns up. But I've heard that sound four times now. It sounds like someone screaming."

He still looked at her blandly. She straightened and crossed her arms. Her voice was harder when she delcared: "I'm not eating until we call."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Stacy stood at her front door, looking anxious as she waited, biting down on her lower lip. Tony was standing a little off to the side, his hands on his hips as he looked from her to the officer, who was slowly coming back down to their endo of the street. Stacy perked at the policeman's return, her eyes lighting up immediately. She stepped away from the entryway and started to move forward to meet him in the middle. Tony grumbled underneath his breath and rolled his eyes, but he followed suit anyway.

"Did you find anything?" Stacy asked, her eyes wide.

The officer stopped once he had met them halfway, the trio now standing in the middle of the street. He sighed and reached up to adjust his hat. "Right…" He turned, glancing back in the direction that he had come— in the direction that Stacy had pointed him down when he'd first gotten there. "You said that that was where the yelling was coming from?" he clarified.

"Y-Yes," she said, anxious. "It sounded like screaming. Just— every so often. It lasted for about an hour. Did you…did you find something? Someone?"

The officer shook his head, and she deflated, disappointment and confusion clouding her gaze. "Nothing," he said. "It's completely silent." When he turned back to her, she realized that he had the nerve to look slightly annoyed. "Look— we encourage citizens of San Franksokyo to reach out to the police whenever they feel the need to. But next time you call, please make sure you know exactly where this _noise_ is coming from. Otherwise there's not a point in my being here."

Stacy wilted. She looked down at the ground, her eyebrows pulling together.

Tony stuffed his hands into the pockets of his shorts. He turned and smiled regretfully at the man. "Sorry about that," he said, sounding uneasy. "I tried to tell her to calm down. But she just wouldn't listen." His wife shot him a harsh glare, but he just tried to go on as best he could. "I'm sorry for having you come all the way out here. I hope you have a good rest of your night."

The officer nodded. He turned and started to walk away. Stacy jerked, looking up suddenly now as she demanded: "What about that boy?" The officer paused, looking over his shoulder at the sudden question. She could feel Tony look at her sharply, warning her to drop it, but she dismissed it before it could bother her too much. "There's a— there's a boy who's been missing. Right? Have you found him yet?"

"That boy's been missing for seven months now," the officer said. She soured at the tone of his voice. "And I'm sorry, but if you don't know where the noise is coming from, we _really_ can't do anything." Aware of her sharpened gaze, he sighed and turned to relent, rather than berate. "Look, just keep an ear out, alright? If you hear the yelling again, you can call us back; _after_ you pinpoint its location. I can't just go around and barge down doors. _I_ haven't even heard anything, and I've been walking around for fifteen minutes now."

She tried to think of something more she could use to drive in her point. But there was no use anymore— she knew that there wasn't anything she could say to change it. So she took to nodding instead. The officer said goodnight to both of them before turning and starting back to his car. The other two stayed where they were, both of them silent. And they stayed this way until the cop car pulled away and vanished down the other end of the street.

Stacy kept still, her arms tucked across herself. At her side, Tony cleared his throat and straightened. He turned and started to walk away, back towards their house. Stacy didn't turn to follow him; she just stared in the direction of where the yelling seemed to have come from, looking puzzled. It was too general. There were too many houses over that way— too many places and sources it could have been from. The worried frown stayed on her face, and she tried listening for it again. But nothing penetrated the night. Not a single thing, other than the chirping of crickets.

It was completely peaceful.

"C'mon," her husband beckoned, turning and waiting for her to follow after. "Dinner's cold by now."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

His injuries were…healed. Though the term was being used very loosely. Hiro was pretty sure that his leg and his back wouldn't get any better. It'd been seven months since they'd been hurt; he wasn't sure anything more could be done. His leg was much stiffer now— before, he could bend and move his leg however he wanted. It would cause him severe and agonizing pain, but it had still been feasible. Now bending and moving it was near impossible. His muscles pinched too much to allow him to push farther. And the way he held himself now made him seem like he was always on a slant, thanks to his back.

Hiro wasn't an expert on anything having to do with anatomy, but he figured that something had gone completely wrong when his bones had been forced to try and heal themselves. Partially, he came to blame himself. He was doing that a lot recently, but this time the blame was at least a little more focused. Maybe if he had tried to use his leg a bit more, not in terms of walking but in terms of exercises, his leg wouldn't have stiffened up like this. Maybe his back wouldn't have a crick in it.

So it led to this. He was trying to distract himself by walking around his room, going as far as his chain would allow and then back again only to repeat. His bad leg was like a straight line, which led him to limp awkwardly as he went. He grimaced every so often, especially after some time, once his bones began to get tired and exhausted— much sooner than they would usually have.

Nozomi was bouncing after him. She was excited at the activity; typically Hiro just took to laying on the ground, unmoving. Now he was actually up and about. Hiro looked down at her and softened, grimacing as he lowered himself to sit down to the ground. "Hey," he cooed, reaching over and ruffling her ears affectionately. Nozomi's tail wagged furiously, and she twisted around to lick at his hands in an eager fashion. "You're very awake this morning, aren't you?" he asked, adjusting his leg so that he could sit properly. He puffed, reaching up to wipe at his forehead. "I wish…I could say the same about myself." Thanks to his leg and the fact he hadn't eaten in forever, he was already sapped of whatever energy sleep had managed to give him.

Nozomi mimicked him and plopped down to sit as well. She yawned, shaking out her fur. Hiro had to stifle a small laugh. "You're so cute," he mumbled. No sooner did the phrase escape his lips, Hiro's smile began to wilt a little bit. He seemed to grow saddened instead, and he adopted a more sobered expression before leaning over and pulling the dog close. She couldn't really be termed a puppy anymore. She was much bigger now. More comforting. He rubbed her shoulder, putting his head on top of hers. "I don't know what I'd do without you," he said, his voice low. Nozomi yawned again, and he smiled weakly. "But you don't know that, do you?" He gave a bitter laugh. "You've got _no_ idea what's going on here..."

Nozomi perked, deciding that she was through with being held tight as she wriggled out of his grip instead. Hiro complied, yet felt a sense of relief when she did not loop away. Instead she kept where she was, planting herself right in front of him. She ducked her head down a little bit, and Hiro softened. He leaned over, with a little difficulty, and planted a tender kiss on the bridge of her nose. Hiro had adopted the habit. So much so, that she had turned to expect the gesture.

Hiro only got sadder with the action, though. He frowned, surveying her closely. "…You don't deserve to be here," he mused after a while, reaching over to pat her head. Her ears flattened a bit, but she shuffled her paws, still just as pleased to be with him. Hiro shook his head. He pulled away, his expression dejected now. The boy sighed, turning to slink back to lay down by the bed, like he usually did whenever his thoughts began to get too heavy. Which was most of the time, now. Well— after the three month mark, that was.

But as he turned, his gaze was caught on the window. There was only one window in the room, and it had been boarded up by Callaghan shortly after Hiro had first gotten there. Wood had covered it from top to bottom; it made the daytime dark and the nights pitch black, considering the boards were so tight that they effectively obstructed any light. But…now it seemed brighter. Because…

One of the boards of the window was looser. The thought was like a slap in the face. Hiro pushed himself up, hobbling over with wide eyes. He reached out and grabbed the board, giving it a wriggle. Sure enough, it gave in a tad under the tug. The nail that was holding this end up wasn't as driven in as the other nails were in the other boards. Hiro felt it move, and his breath caught tightly in his throat. He turned, looking over his shoulder. But the door was still shut, and there were no footsteps. There was only Nozomi, the little dog just looking up at him questioningly, merely waiting.

Hiro turned back, hesitating for a long moment. But eventually he jerked himself into motion. He curled his hands down underneath the wood and gave it a harsh tug. He had to bite down on his lip to keep himself from crying out, his arms aching from the strain that they were suddenly put under. Sucking in a harsh breath, he pulled again, falling into the desperate rhythm of tugging and jerking as hard as he possibly could. It wasn't much— he didn't have much energy whatsoever. But he kept at it.

Eventually, the board was loose enough so that Hiro could stick something bigger underneath. He turned, panicking now as time suddenly seemed to be slipping away fast instead. His eyes landed on one of Abigail's old trophies— something for science achievement. It was tall and hard. It would work better than his arms could, if he gave it the right leverage, as long as it was as tough as it looked. Turning, he staggered over to grab up from the shelf, retracing his steps to the window and biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep his noises of pain bottled back.

He turned and stuck the trophy up into the gap between the wood. He made sure that it was firmly there, before he pulled back to shove down on other the end of the award, using it as a makeshift crowbar. Unsurprisingly, it dented and creaked; but it was still good enough to suffice for the job. The trophy popped out, and the nail on this side of the board did the same. Hiro fell to the side, unprepared for the sudden accomplishment. The prize fell down to the floor, and Hiro grimaced at the small thud it created.

He turned, twisting the board down and pushing aside the curtain that was underneath. His eyes were bigger than the moon as a small slit of the window was revealed. He'd only looked out the window once, the entire time he'd been here— seven whole months, and he'd seen outside just one fleeting time. And that was only for a few seconds, before he had been thrown mercilessly to the ground. It was enough to completely floor him for a few moments. It was twilight outside, the sky a soft pink and the sun a dull orange as it was on its descent. There was a street to the side of him— the one that was right in front of the house. There were other houses around here too! Other houses – other lives – that were going on right around this situation! How was it possible!? How were people so dense!?

Hiro turned quickly to look down at Nozomi, who was still watching him. He smiled, the grin wide and excited on his face now. "Nozomi, do you want to get out?" he asked, his voice coming out hushed and eager. Nozomi perked at once, jumping up to her feet at the mere tone of his voice. Her ears shot up and she let out a bark, which Hiro immediately regretted evoking. He shook his head. "Shhh, shhh— Nozomi, don't," he whispered.

The dog tilted her head to the side, looking concerned at the emotion shift.

Hiro disregarded it. He'd apologize to her later. He turned and leaned down with another grimace, his leg stuck out awkwardly in order for him to reach the floor. He picked up the trophy again and casted another worried look twoards the door. But it was still shut, and there were no footsteps. Yet. Hiro was concerned by the lack of reaction; usually Callaghan was able to tell whether or not Hiro even _breathed_ incorrectly. Was there a reason that wasn't he up here yet?

He shook it off, telling himself that this just meant that he had more time. The teenager looked back to the window and clenched the trophy and little bit tighter in his hand. He hesitated, too afraid to move for a second. Once he did this, there was no going back…right? If he was caught, he had no idea what kind of consequence he would get. What would Callaghan do? Hiro frowned and looked back down at Nozomi. The dog hopped over to nose at his good leg, as if to tell him that she was getting bored. His eyes narrowed a little bit. He had to get out of here— by any means necessary. No matter what happened. It had been seven months. He _had_ to get out.

He resolved himself and acted before he could go back on it. He clenched the trophy hard in one hand, and held the curtain of the window aside with the other. He reared his arm back and proceeded to throw it forward as hard as he could. The trophy shattered the window on impact, and Hiro cringed from the noise, and the pain, as some glass punctured down into his skin. This time he could not hold back his yelp of pain, and he found that his grip on the trophy went lax in shock. It fell out of his hand and down to the grass below.

He staggered away, looking down and holding his arm tightly. There weren't a lot of scratches, but glass tended to draw a lot of blood anyway. His lower lip trembled a little bit, and his eyes teared up at the pain that itched down into his skin. He ducked, biting down and breathing heavily to try and ease off the pain. Nozomi fell into a series of barks, alarmed at the noises and Hiro's reaction. She weaved tight circles around him, yipping and chirping in confusion.

He shook his head, leaning down and scooping her up. "Shut up, shut up, Nozomi!" he hissed, whispering in a way that was more just hushed screaming. "You've got to be quiet!" The blood from his arm was getting into Nozomi's white fur, staining it. He pushed the fact aside, turning back to the window to jerk aside the curtain. He couldn't fit through, and the fall would probably injure him even more than he already was, if such a thing. So he just resorted to the next best thing. " _Help_!" he yelled out, suddenly thinking that it was a better idea to write a note and throw it out. It might get blown aside by the wind, but maybe it would end up in the hands of someone? Maybe it _wouldn't_ end up in a sewer somewhere?

Wait! Were those footsteps!?

It was so nice outside! So refreshing to breathe in air that wasn't pushed through a machine! His heart tore and split in pain, and he screamed out even louder: " _It's Ca—_!"

He was jerked back harshly by his collar. He yelped as he was pulled backwards, nearly ripping his other arm open on a jutting shard of glass in the process of his stumble. He had no time at all to try and recover, before he was thrown down to the ground. Nozomi tumbled to the side, rolling out of the boy's arms with a sharp squeak. Hiro blinked rapidly as his head spun. He twisted and started to push himself up, looking up to see Callaghan, his face twisted in anger. Hiro's breathing went haywire in panic as the man turned, yanking the curtain back in a too-harsh manner.

"P-Please don't!" Hiro gasped already, hyperventilating as he started to scramble up to his feet . "I-I was only trying to—" He wasn't able to finish. Callaghan whirled around and punched him square in the jaw, causing Hiro to fly back down to the ground with a heavy thud. His face split in agony, and he groaned, fighting back tears as he curled into himself with a flinch.

Nozomi immediately began to bark again, rushing over to Callaghan as if to do something, despite her comparitive size. But Callaghan wasn't in the mood. Hiro watched in horror as Callaghan kicked the dog with enough force for her to be thrown back into the corner. She fell into a heap, and did not get up. Hiro let out a cry, starting to scramble up to run to her. She wasn't moving! Was she _okay_!? She _had_ to be! But he was only halfway up before he was grabbed again, and pulled harshly to his feet.

He was wrenched around, so that he was forced to look up at Callaghan. The man looked more than absolutely furious. He pulled Hiro close, so that they were nose-to-nose. Hiro's body broke into tremors, and his breathing was reduced down to frantic wheezes. Callaghan glared holes through him. " _What were you doing_?" he spat, Hiro cringing with a barely-restrained shriek. Callaghan jerked him back and forth, hard enough to make his brain rattle and jar. The child was winded and too scrambled to do anything by the time Callaghan was through. " _Never_ do that!" Callaghan snarled, Hiro struggling back into coherence. "We are _together._ Don't you _dare_ try and ruin this!"

Hiro was crying. He swallowed hard and struggled to get words out above a whisper. But a low murmur was all he could manage. His voice trembled like a leaf in the wind, and he tried to look back over to Nozomi. "Did you…please tell me that she's oka—" His plea ended in a sob of pain as Callaghan shook him again. His head was spinning, and he grimaced as he was left to fight back a gag of nausea.

Callaghan's voice became more urgent, more hurt. His eyes went wide, and he looked hard at the boy, who was still struggling to figure up from down. "Don't you see what you almost _did_ , Hiro?" he pressed wearily. "Where will you go!? Your family doesn't care about you— you know that by now." Hiro closed his eyes, a pathetic sob bursting from his chest. "I'm the only person that loves you, Hiro! I'm the only person here for you! How stupid are you to try and leave!? Back to where you're completely worthless!? Here is the _only_ place for you to be! _This_ is the only place you can mean anything! With _me_!"

Hiro tried to duck away, his shoulders shaking as tears ran down his face.

Callaghan shook him again. And again, his head reeled. "Don't you _know_ that!?"

He cringed. His voice came out in a pitiful whine. "I…I just want to go home…" he whimpered shakily. Immediately, he saw that Callaghan only clouded over in more anger. Wasn't there anything he could say to fix it!? Hastily, in a panic, he raised his voice into another yell. " _Please! I just want to_ —!" He couldn't finish the scream. Before he could, Callaghan pushed him as hard as he could manage, Hiro thrown backwards off his feet. He tried to catch himself, but he couldn't move in enough time.

He fell. He hit the wooden frame of the bed, the back of his head cracking a dull thump on the board. He experienced an absolute wave of agony— one that spread from the back of his head and sliced through all the way to the backs of his eyes. But he wasn't able to let out that scream that burst up his throat in reaction to the blow. Because as soon as his head cracked, his knees buckled, and he collapsed. He didn't even twitch in pain upon impact.

He hit the ground limply, and the back of his head began to feel warm.

He fell unconscious immediately.

Everything went black.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He did it on purpose. Everything was on purpose. Every blow, every hit, they had all been for a reason. Hiro hadn't thought anything of it; not beyond the fact that it just hurt. But he should have. He should have realized what Callaghan was doing. He should have realized that every blow was administered directly to his head. That headaches, and even migraines, were commonplace ever since he had first gotten here.

Callaghan had done this on purpose.

When Hiro woke up again, what he saw didn't make any sense. Everything looked distorted and warped— the world seemed suddenly fuzzy and awkward. Colors melted and blended into one another, combining into a mismatch of _nothing_. He couldn't see anything distinctly. It was a complete haze. It had taken less than five seconds for him to begin hyperventilating, panic rearing its head as he went as stiff as a board. He'd twisted, pulling his hands up in front of his face, a whimper escaping his lips as he realized that the edges of his fingers seemed to shiver and shake into nothing. There was no permanent outline that kept it from seeping into whatever was in the background.

His vision…

He couldn't… _he couldn't see._

A strangled scream of fear had been wrenched from him. His body had immediately broken out into shakes, and he'd dissolved into a fit of sobs as he moved his arms sluggishly back and forth in front of his eyes, trying to get some discernment. He looked up, across the room to see a white blob. The smudge of color had jumped up, getting closer and bigger; it wasn't until the shape was about a yard away from him was he able to make out the pointed ears and finite details of Nozomi. She tilted her head to the side, looking confused at his apparent horror.

Callaghan turned, instantly snapping to attention at Hiro's panicked crying. He had been putting the board Hiro had moved back into place, and making sure that the rest weren't about to budge any time soon. They were all now firmly in place. He dropped the hammer to the ground, rushing over to Hiro, who was slowly falling deeper and deeper into shock. The man crouched down, grabbing onto the boy and shifting him over so that he was on his back.

Hiro was gasping for air, and the efforts weren't helped as he was forced to look up at Callaghan again. His expression was wrought with absolute shock and panic. He shoulders heaved unevenly, and he reached back to press his left hand against the back of his head. It came away red; even he could see that much. His head was _bleeding_. "My—" He grimaced, fighting back a screech at the pain that came from just moving his jaw. His body went into a sharp spasm, and he choked.

Callaghan shushed him gently, like someone would do to a baby. He wrapped his arms tighter around Hiro, who tried to jerk away unsuccessfully. "What's wrong?" Callaghan soothed, dragging his hand down Hiro's face repeatedly in what was probably supposed to be a comforting gesture. But it only made the teenager even worse, his breathing going out the window completely as he started to gag on his own air. "Hiro, you've got to calm down!" Callaghan urged. "What's wrong?"

 _What's wrong!?_

 _WHAT'S WRONG!?_

"I can't see!" Hiro shrieked, blanching with alarm at the smeared and sloppy images that met him. When Callaghan didn't even seem to react at first – though Hiro wouldn't be able to tell, with his vision – he only repeated the words, in a higher pitch of desperation. "My eyes— I can't see anything clearly!" His expression crumbled, and tears welled down his cheeks. "I can't see, I can't see, I can't see!" he wailed. Without thinking, he pleaded: "Help me! My head— I can't—"

Callaghan still did not reply audibly.

But he did allow a slow smile to spread across his face.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He couldn't go anywhere. Obviously. He took a test on an app. Apparently that was a _thing_ now. Hiro was given Robert's phone and Callaghan watched right over Hiro's shoulder, making sure he did not use the device for anything other than the test, holding tight to his other hand in the effort to stagnate the possible action even further. But it wasn't like Hiro was planning on doing anything more. It felt like needles were being driven through his skull, and he could feel the matted blood that was thick on the back of his head. In the half hour or so it had taken for Callaghan to 'calm' him down and get the test prepared and downloaded properly, Hiro had thrown up twice. He felt awful. Like he was dying.

He took the perscription test without a single attempt at complaining. He knew better than to. And in any other situation, he would have been impressed with the ability of modern-day phones. He had no idea that there was anything like this. But obviously, his mind was not focused on the evolvement of current store-bought apps. Callaghan had gone out to buy a viewfinder so that this could be pulled off— something that costed like two bucks, going by his report. He had attached this to his phone screen, and Hiro was instructed to look inside.

A pattern showed up after the app was opened. Hiro was supposed to look through the lens and bring the image closer and closer, until it was focused enough for him to tell what it was. He struggled to align the pattern until he could see it properly. Then he had to repeat it about three more times. It took him a while to get them all right. He couldn't hold himself back from growling or scowling in irritation or frustration. After so many blows to the head, he had figured that it was inevitable to have something like this happen.

But he didn't think so quickly…and he didn't think so _bad_ …so soon…

By the end it spit out some prescription.

Hiro just stared down at it dully, his expression numb. He didn't react to it, because he had no idea what the numbers meant. He'd never encountered a perscription before.

But Robert had. Callaghan had taken it without a single pause. He'd turned and left without a word, still with that same grin on his face.

Hiro waited for him to leave, cringing sharply against the slam of the door on Robert's way out. Nozomi was sitting off to the side, and once Robert left she got up and pranced back over, pushing her head against Hiro's side almost reassuringly. He turned, rubbing his hand across her head. Petting her, he squinted his eyes and leaned closer, bringing into focus the spots of his blood that were marring her white fur.

He grimaced in pain, sniffing hard as he felt tears sting at his eyes. Wearily, he shook his head and pulled her close to his chest. "I'm sorry," he whispered, gathering her into his arms and laughing weakly as she twisted around to lick his face. "I'm sorry for all of this," he whimpered. The words passed his lips, and he tried to find some comfort in his own offer of solace. But he knew that she didn't understand; at the most, she was just confused at today's wild events. But he kept trying anyway, ducking his head down and pressing it into her fur. "I really am. I'm so sorry…"

He didn't expect to feel anything in response to his efforts.

Because he knew that he really just wanted someone to say those same things to _him_.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Callaghan had come back later that night.

He handed Hiro a small, angular case.

Hiro took it, and opened it up to see black, thick-framed glasses.

Callaghan was still smiling from ear-to-ear. When Hiro did not move, he pressed quickly: "Go on! Put them on! They should help!" Hiro closed his eyes tightly and bit down on his lower lip. But he complied. With slow movements, he put down the box, taking out the eyeglasses and pushing them on his face, flinching at the pain that was inflicted just by their light weight on his head. His bangs, longer now, drooped in the way of his eyes a bit as he looked up.

But he realized with a sickening feeling that things clicked again, through the filter of the lenses. Colors were once again confined to tangible objects, not smearing and bleeding across the room. And when he lifted his hands up in front of his face, each finger was defined and outlined as they should be. There was still pain in his head, of course. And he still squinted blearily— even though there wasn't a lot of light in the room, it still seemed to be enough for Hiro to cringe away from. The pressure that the frames put on his head was enough to make him want to vomit again, and as his stomach fell away from him, he was worried that he might.

He leaned back against the bed to try and stave off the feeling, closing his eyes to try and steady himself. Callaghan pulled out his phone, and when Hiro perked again, he was only met with a bright flash of light that took his breath away. The boy yelped, flinching harshly. But Callaghan just smiled, reaching out and displaying the photo that he had taken. "Look!" he encouraged. Hiro frowned, leaning back against the bed again with a nauseated wince. "You look just like her now!"

He blinked slowly, and tried to find a discrepancy.

There was none.

He stared at the picture, now able to see it clearer with the glasses on. The photo had been taken as a close-up. And Hiro was reminded of the ornament of Abigail that had been on the Christmas tree so long ago. The only difference was that rather than smiling cutely at the camera like she had been, Hiro was flinching away. He was sick and pale and small-looking. But he still had on some flannel shirt, and he still had that same – albeit longer – hair that hid his forehead in swooped bangs. And now…he had these black glasses to match.

It almost took his attention away from the blood he could see crusted blood on the side of his neck.

Callaghan beamed. "You _see_?" he pushed brightly. " _This_ is why you can't try to leave!" Though his words were forceful and passionate, they were hushed, as if he was too excited to speak above a murmur. "You're too much like her, Hiro!" Hiro sighed heavily and did not reply. Callaghan inched closer, his eyes suddenly way too bright as he grabbed hold of the child's arm. He gave a hasty nod. "You were _meant_ to be here. With me. We were meant to be _together_!" There was a long stretch of silence before Callaghan grabbed his chin, jerking his head so that he could meet his gaze, the boy having to choke back a scream of agony.

"Do you understand, yet, Hiro? I thought you would have by now," Callaghan said.

Hiro still kept mute, breathing heavily through his nose as he tried to stifle his growing alarm.

Callaghan still smiled lovingly. But his voice was absolutely freezing as he whispered: "You're not going anywhere. You _never_ are."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

" _Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday Dear Hiro! Happy Birthday to you!_ "

Hiro didn't _like_ when people sang 'Happy Birthday' to him. He never did. What were you supposed to do when they sang? Smile awkwardly and stare off into space? Make eye-contact with some random person in the crowd and try to make some sort of emotional connection? What did you do with your hands? Did you smile, did you laugh? It was always a torture that he had to endure. The only comfort was that there was cake at the end of the tribulation.

He'd always hated it before. But that was nothing in comparison to how much he hated this.

He had been forced to walk downstairs, and he had been forced to sit down in the chair at the dining table he had sat in twice before— both of those situations turning out horribly awful. His leg and back were aching from the stairs, and his head was still throbbing in deep pain, like it had been ever since he'd cracked it on the bed two weeks ago. He hadn't even gotten to clean the blood off of him yet. Or at least properly.

June 28th. That was apparently the date. Not of his birthday— God, no. But it was Abigail's. So now it _was_ his, apparently.

The cake was set out in front of him, and he watched the single candle flicker dully. It was a cake that was far too big for Hiro to even make a dent in, considering that his stomach felt as though it was being squeezed and pulled every which way. Just looking at it made him want to vomit, which he was doing more and more of nowadays anyway. He swallowed thickly and blinked once Callaghan was through singing. The man smiled broadly and looked from him to the candle. "Go on!" he said brightly, ecstatic with happiness. "Blow out the candle! Make a wish!"

Hiro noticed that all the windows were drawn tight with curtains.

Not that it mattered anymore.

He reached up and adjusted his glasses so they wouldn't fall off, fighting a scowl with the motion. He took the route of obedience and leaned forward, sucking in a breath and releasing it in a blow just strong enough to make the flame blink out. His wish was pretty much obvious. Standing down below, right beside his chair, Nozomi yipped, hopping from one paw to the other. Carefree, she seemed to have forgotten the scene two weeks ago where she had been kicked aside. Hiro wished he could do the same. But he wasn't as fortunate.

"What was your wish?" Robert pushed, his eyes bright as he raised his eyebrows.

Hiro continued to stare off into space— _through_ the cake, rather than a _t_ it. His voice was monotone when he replied, and without much agonizing over it all, he rasped: "I don't have one." He blinked and tuned, looking up at Callaghan and noticing with a pang of relief that he seemed overjoyed. Right then. Hiro had made the correct move. Of course, Robert had taken the wish as Hiro being far too satisfied with all life had to offer to wish for anything more. Hiro really just meant that there was no use in saying what he wanted out loud.

His eyesight was already ruined. What else could happen from this point on?

He wasn't really keen on pushing it.

He wanted to get out of here…of course he did…but…

"Well!" Callaghan perked, still absolutely ecstatic. "It's your very special day! I've got a gift for you! Don't think I've forgotten! I know you'll love it!" Hiro smiled weakly; the expression was painful to fake— he wondered what it was like to look at. But thankfully Callaghan didn't seem to notice it, just like he never noticed anything. Callaghan leaned a bit closer, reaching out to poke at his nose affectionately. "Because I want you to know how _happy_ you make me. And how much I _love_ you, hm?"

He couldn't keep the smile on his face now. But it was enough that he didn't get sick on the spot.

Hiro just nodded again.

Callaghan laughed. "But first! We cannot forget the cake! Let's have some of that before gifts, huh? We can get some cake, and then you can open some presents! You only turn fifteen once, Hiro! I'm not about to let you go uncelebrated!" He ruffled Hiro's hair, and he had to bite down on his tongue to keep from screaming. He was lucky he just kept the noise down to a small whine. Again, Robert was oblivious. "So let's cut the cake!"

He turned and started into the kitchen. Hiro wilted, his lower lip trembling as he caught sight of the gun sitting right in Callaghan's back pocket. He had it ready, considering Hiro had been brought down here again. The child's stomach twisted and he looked back at the cake instead, trying not to dwell on it. He reached over and dragged a finger through a little bit of the icing to take a taste. Sure enough, he couldn't even feel the slightest bit satisfied with the tang of thick sugar. He felt disgusted. His upper lip twitched, and he drew away from the cake in a resigned matter.

He never thought that he would be so appalled at the taste of icing.

Callaghan came back with a knife, bright-eyed and ready to cut into the pastry. "Alright!" he cheered, going over and starting to position it properly. "How big of a piece would you like, Hiro? A big one? Medium?" When Hiro just blinked and didn't reply, he dissolved into a bit of laughter. "You can't have a small piece on your birthday! Certainly not! Especially us! We're celebrating our being together tonight too! Not _just_ a birthday!"

Hiro sighed through his nose. He opened his mouth and reluctantly started to reply. "I just want—"

He couldn't finish before the phone rang, cutting through his speech abruptly. He fell silent, a little surprised as he turned to the noise. The phone didn't ring a lot here. He certainly hadn't been expecting it, especially now. Callaghan seemed to share the same opinion. The man's face fell slightly, and his eyebrows knitted a little bit in bemusement. "Hm. That's odd," he said. Nevertheless, he put the knife down and offered Hiro a smile. "I'll be right back, then. Don't move."

He started over into the living room, turning his back to Hiro.

Again, the boy's eyes were drawn down to the gun in Robert's pocket.

Callaghan was so confident with the weapon in his stride, that he was willing to leave Hiro alone.

Hiro bit down on his lower lip, his heart immediately picking up. He turned in his seat to look towards the door, down in the hall. He felt a tug in his gut, and he looked quickly from the door to Callaghan. Then he looked down at Nozomi, who was peacefully sitting by, almost bored. Callaghan had picked up the phone by now, and Hiro listened tensely to the one-sided conversation. "Hello? …Well, no, I'm not doing much, but I can't talk for very long. …I've got a special day to celebrate. …No, not mine. How can I help you?"

Should Hiro scream? Would they hear on the other line? It differed sometimes.

"That's…that's _next_ weekend?"

Maybe Hiro could just make a break for the door again. But what if it was locked? He couldn't undo a lock and hold Nozomi at the same time; he was too weak. Could he trust Nozomi to run after him!? He wasn't about to leave her behind! But even if he did run, he'd proven himself to be no match for anything with his leg the way it was. A turtle could chase him down! Maybe if he just banged on the door he might be able to get someone's attention? But he'd _tried_ that before! It was seven months ago, soon to be eight, but…

"Is there any way that somebody else could host it? The house is a complete mess."

He had to do _something_!

"I know I made a commitment. And I _know_ its tradition. I just…"

Hiro's eyes landed on the knife. Behind his glasses, they grew to be ten times their regular size.

He glanced back at Robert.

Could…could he…?

"Alright. No, I know," Callaghan sighed. "I've got it planned— don't worry. I've just been busy recently. You know me, I'll get it all organized. You can all come over then. I'll get the times out to everyone." There was a small pause and he nodded, clearing his throat. "Alright, then. I'll get back to you." Another brief pause, then: "Goodbye." Robert hung up the phone and sighed, hesitating long enough to run a hand through his hair and shake his head. His expression seemed a bit less excited than it did two minutes ago. But nevertheless, he brightened at the prospect of returning to Hiro. And he turned again, itching to return.

He stopped short immediately, though.

Hiro was standing, having gotten up from his chair. Nozomi was sniffing at his leg, her tail wagging earnestly as she vied for the boy's attention. But Hiro wasn't even aware— he wasn't paying mind at all. Instead, he was glaring tensely across at Callaghan, the look of defiance on his face thinly covering up the absolute terror that was underneath. He locked his jaw backwards, staggering a little bit as he held out his arms stiffly in front of him. The knife was trembling ever so slightly as it was aimed threateningly over to his kidnapper.

For a second, nobody did anything. The only sound was Hiro's harsh breathing.

Callaghan's eyes narrowed. After a second he growled out slowly: "Sit back down, Hiro."

The boy was acutely aware of the fact that the other was starting to reach back to his pocket.

Hiro's knuckles were white with the effort of holding the knife so that it wouldn't fall. His shaking hands weren't helping him at all. "Don't!" he stuttered. He took in a harsh breath and tried to keep his voice level. "I'm leaving," he forced out. "I'm leaving; you've got to let me go. You've—" He broke off, cringing as Robert whipped out the gun, the barrel staring Hiro down for a second time. Hiro glanced down at Nozomi, who tilted her head to the side, puzzled. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes, reverting to a different tactic.

"You won't…you won't hurt me," he said, dragging his gaze back to Callaghan as his stomach seized. He didn't believe in the words whatsoever. But he noticed Robert's expression fall just slightly, and he struggled to push on. He shook his head, desperate and earnest as he looked at the man across from him. Could he pull this off? He clenched the knife tighter. "You won't hurt me. You won't…you won't _shoot_ me," he pressed shakily. "Because you love me."

Robert took a step closer, realigning the gun. Hiro winced. "I _do_ love you," Callaghan said, his voice short. "Which is why I won't let you leave. You are _mine_. You _always_ will be." Hiro bit down on his lower lip and stifled a whimper. "Now sit back down, Hiro. Or you're going to make me do something I'll regret."

"You love me," Hiro reiterated, his shaking only getting worse.

Hiro couldn't kill Robert. He wasn't strong enough. He couldn't outrun a gun. And…well, he just couldn't _kill_ anyone! Not even him!

He felt like he was going to be sick again.

His eyes flickered back down to Nozomi. The dog looked brightly back at him.

The trembling boy looked back at Callaghan and sucked in a breath before: "Please just let me go. It's gone on _long enough_." He grimaced. "If you really loved me and wanted me to be happy, you would let me go. You would give me what I _want_."

Robert scowled. He paced closer, and Hiro scuttled backwards immediately. "You _will_ be happy. Here." His words were radiating with anger now. The small slip in his expression was gone completely. Now Hiro had no comfort that might let him know that he could have a chance. "You're going to put down the knife, Hiro," Callaghan spat, getting even closer. Now Nozomi seemed to grow worried, looking from one to the other now. One brandishing a gun, and the other struggling to keep a firm hold on the knife through his tremors. Callaghan raised his voice into a snap. "Hiro! Put the knife down! You have _no_ idea of what I'm capable of!"

"And _you_ have no idea of what _I'm_ capable of!" Hiro yelled, the words bursting out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"You're not capable of _anything_ without _me_ ," he snarled. "Now. Sit. Down."

"No," Hiro sobbed, ducking his head. "You've got to let me go. Now."

"I will kill them." Hiro went rigid at the undisguised threat. His eyes snapped open and his pupils blew out in terror. Callaghan, knowing he struck a nerve, went on. "I'll kill your aunt. Your brother. It won't be hard. And it'll be entirely your fault." Hiro bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from crumbling. It was all he could do to keep where he was, the knife jutting out. "So sit down. Before you make me go down to the Lucky Cat Café and put a bullet through their heads."

He stiffened. Horror gripped his heart with enough force to choke him out. He turned and looked at Callaghan, whose face was dark and enraged. They were only a few yards away from one another now. Silence fell in between them, and Hiro exhaled, coming to a last resort. "You…you love me, don't you?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

Callaghan immediately softened, though there was a lingering trace of fury still in his face. How he could manage both expressions at the same time was beyond Hiro. "Of course I do," he said. "With every fiber of my being. You are the _only_ thing that matters to me. The _only_ thing. I love you more than words can possibly say." The reply was quick, as if it had already been prepared. Hiro swallowed as he wondered how many times that the mantra had been repeated in Callaghan's head. How many times he had driven himself into making this entire situation seem okay just by saying that.

Hiro steadied himself to go on. "You'll do anything to keep me safe. And here…with you," he went on.

Callaghan's reply was just as instantaneous. "Anything," he pledged.

Hiro shut his eyes tightly for the briefest of seconds. But he knew he couldn't put it off. He couldn't hesitate. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't. Because in less than five seconds, Callaghan would be close enough to jerk the knife out of his hands. This was all he had left to do. "That's…that's what I thought," Hiro whispered uneasily. "You do love me…" Callaghan began to brighten just a little bit. Hiro's captor started to lower the gun slowly, though he still kept the barrel in Hiro's general direction.

He started to reach over.

But before he could do anything, Hiro jerked down to stab himself in the right shoulder as hard as he possibly could.

Callaghan jerked backwards, his expression wiping over with shock.

Hiro shoved his left arm down, ripping open his right arm as absolute agony wrapped around his throat, making breathing and even screaming impossible. He heaved for air with no success as he staggered to the side, hitting the wall and being forced to prop himself up against it. The knife in his left hand was now covered in red, and blood was gushing profusely down his arm into droplets on the floor. It was a thick tide already, and it was only getting worse. The gash was inches wide and clumsy— Hiro forced himself not to look at the injury, the stench coming off it of already sickening him. Just looking at it when he'd done it, he had seen the muscles and the tendons being sliced through.

Wild and desperate, he started to fall, only to plunge the knife down into his already-bad leg next. He only managed to rip a gash there for a few inches before it became impossible to keep going. But the wound was deep enough; he felt his jeans soak through with blood in less than five seconds. He staggered to the side, and the knife slipped out of his grip. Blood-drenched now, with a muted thud it hit the floor, which was slowly on track to become slick with Hiro's blood.

He gave out a heart-wrenching sob that grated against his throat. He pressed his arm against his chest, blood immediately leaking through his shirt and warming the skin underneath. One eye was closed in pain, and he was three seconds away from blacking out. In the back of his mind, he was aware of Nozomi barking furiously. His head was spinning, and he felt was if all the blood was instantly draining away from his head, leaving him swaying and swooning. The child breathed heavily, sucking in harsh breath after hash breath. He couldn't get in enough air to scream, however much he wanted to.

All he could do was look up and lock eyes with Callaghan.

The man was floored, his jaw slack as he looked at Hiro in complete terror. He was frozen. Obviously, he had no idea what to do.

Hiro mustered up enough strength to shoot him a withering glare. His voice was clenched tight, coming out as a thick wheeze. "Then take me to the hospital," he snarled.

Then his eyes rolled back into his head. His legs buckled, and he collapsed with a slam to the floor.

Everything went black.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: I'm sorry for cliffhangers, I really am. There was no avoiding this one. If I avoided this one, I would have gone on for eight more pages. But you guys have been awesome with reviews, so look at me, back so soon! And I'm super excited for next chapter, so that has the potential to get out super quick too! Like always, I am putting off homework to do this, so please excuse any typos, as I have to struggle super hard to get this out lol.

I hope you like this! I put in way too much effort researching head injuries and vision problems that can result, and YES that is an actual app you can buy and oh my goodness I need a life like really bad. Someone help me.

If you have any questions I'll be glad as ever to answer! If you see any glaring typos that I don't catch when I edit it sometime soon, feel free to nod towards those too! I'd love to hear what you think so far, and what you think will happen next! I'm excited to write it! ;)

See you in ten reviews!

And is it too late to admit I wrote this story because I just wanted to have Hiro with glasses and a dog…? :O


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: An update _already_!?

I know what you must be thinking. "But Kat! Don't you have other things to do during your weekend!? Don't you have an anatomy test on Thursday to study for!? Don't you have math you could be looking over!? Don't you have more productive things to be doing!?"

The answer to all of those is…of course I do.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Alright, let's try it again," Tadashi encouraged, his eyes a little bit narrowed as he looked over the notes on his laptop. His gaze was creased over in thought; he'd been at it for hours, and he was still running into walls. It was starting to get really late now, but he wasn't planning on leaving until he finally got all of this right. He was so close— it was probably just a little bit more tinkering before things would finally fall into place. Hopefully it wouldn't take too long, and hopefully he had just fixed the major issue. But even if that wasn't the case, Tadashi was adamant in staying until the bug _was_ righted.

It wasn't like he had anything else to do, really.

Tadashi spun around in his rolling chair, recovering his grin now. His expression changed from thoughtful and puzzled, to bright and encouraging. He stood up, walking across the room from his desk and giving a nod, and taking in a bracing gulp of air. He leaned out and activated the robot in front of him, seeming a little nervous now as he saw his creation's eyes blink open in reply. He waited, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep them still.

He waited.

And sure enough, after a moment's pause, the robot's voice slowly came into being. Tadashi started to brighten, albeit cautiously, as he was careful not to get his hopes up too fast before they were crushed. "Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion."

Immediately, Tadashi perked and straightened, a smile spreading across his face now as he looked at the round white robot. He'd worked for months upon months on it in order to get it up and running; thinking and focusing was harder and harder to do with each passing day, and the mounting frustration he was feeling in response to this difficulty wasn't really helpful at all. But maybe, just maybe, he'd finally been able to crack the code on his project. "It works…" he mumbled to himself, surprise coming over his face. As his smile grew, he grinned and said to himself, just a little bit louder. "It works."

He grinned, ducking his head and studying the floor for a few moments. Then he shook his head and looked back up, satisfied and content. He kept his hands shoved into his pockets, and he put more weight on one foot, leaning to the side a bit. He grinned at the robot, who blinked slowly back in reply. Apparently that worked, then, too. Blinking was vital— a patient would already be nervous enough being treated by a machine. Their fear would only be multiplied if that machine just stared at them emptily for hours on end.

"Alright, let's see here…" Tadashi murmured, a smile keeping his expression light as he looked eagerly up at the robot. Baymax had been his project for who knew how long, now. It was about time he was starting to see some results. It probably would have been much faster if…well, if he had just been able to focus on something other than…other than the fact that… "Go ahead and try to scan me." He lifted out his hands now only to spread his arms out at his sides, making it easier for the robot to do so.

Baymax blinked again, as if to confirm the fact that he could. The robot stared at Tadashi, and a moment of silence was set to follow the request. Tadashi waited, giving him enough time to follow through. After a while, Tadashi was worried that there might be some other issue that was keeping him from being able to scan. But no sooner did the thought cross his mind did Baymax reply. "Your neurotransmitters are slightly lower than normal," he said.

Tadashi blinked, a little bit surprised as his smile faded gradually.

The robot went on. "This indicates that you are sad," he stated.

He hadn't…well, he hadn't expected that. His face fell, and here was a blanching space of silence as he tried to regather himself. Eventually he did, and he offered a small laugh that came out a shade tinny and small. "I'm not— I'm not sad, buddy," he objected. "I'm happy! You're finally working! I'm ecstatic!" He sighed through his nose, turning and glancing back over at his laptop when Baymax made no move to correct himself. Tadashi's expression was noticeably wearier now, and he mumbled to himself: "There must be some other problem…" Baymax still just stared at him. "Maybe…maybe I can find some more time and figure out what's wrong…"

There was a small knock on the door that prevented Tadashi from delving back into his notes. It kept him from trying to find whatever flaw he was certain was hiding somewhere. Instead, Tadashi turned towards the door of his lab, looking surprised and caught off-guard. But quickly, he recovered himself, and his smile came back in a rush. "Professor Callaghan!" he greeted warmly, the instructor currently standing in the doorway of the room. "W-What a surprise!"

Professor Callaghan grinned, surveying Tadashi with a friendly gaze. "I could say the same in respects to you, Mister Hamada," he returned, taking a few slow steps forward as he entered the workstation. "From what I understand, you've been hard at working hard. You've been in from eight in the morning to four in the evening every day for the past week." Tadashi sobered a little bit, but he didn't say anything or interrupt. Callaghan tilted his head and studied him. "I would think a boy like you, with the friends you've got…would have something better to do during your summer vacation."

Tadashi grinned, but it came out a little pinched. "I don't mind hard work," he said, knowing that it didn't really offer any sort of good answer to what his teacher was probably getting at. "I like it." He turned and looked over at Baymax with a sense of approval. "I've finally got Baymax up and running. It's a good thing I took the hours to work. Although…I don't know…I think I might have to upgrade his scanner." The words passed his lips, and he stiffened a little bit, as if something was awry. He tilted his head to the side a little bit, looking almost confused. As if he'd thought of something.

But he pushed it away quickly and shook his head. He turned back to the professor, finding that he was suddenly being very rude and spacing off. "Well, I'd figure you'd have better things to do than come down here too," Tadashi said, trying to follow his attempts to tease and joke. "So what can I help you with, Professor Callaghan?"

The professor shook his head with a smile. "I just came to check up on one of my brightest students," he said fairly. "I was contacted and told that you were spending quite a lot of time here recently. I came to see what you were working on."

Tadashi seemed a little confused at this. He'd signed in and out of working, of course— that was required if you wanted to use the lab, especially during times when you did not have school. But Tadashi didn't think that the person in charge of monitoring these comings and goings would approach Callaghan. They never had before, after all. But he realized slowly that he'd never really spent as much time here during breaks as he was now. He must just not know how it all worked. So he switched to clear his throat. He grinned, stepping to the side and gesturing over to Baymax, who had been watching the two interact in silence.

Callaghan perked at the wordless invitation. He crossed the room and looked over Baymax, his eyes sparking in thought and an intense amount of interest. He folded his arms across his chest, and he circled the robot, looking at him from all angles. His voice was careful when he spoke next. "This is the medical robot you told me about, then?" he asked. When Tadashi smiled and nodded, he did the same, his expression turning approving now. "I've been meaning to look in on the progress you've been making on it. It _seems_ rather impressive."

Tadashi warmed underneath the praise. "Thank you, sir," he said, turning earnest now. He padded after the older man, keeping up with him and not planning to drop back any time soon. "He's programmed with over ten thousand medical procedures. He should be well-versed in all things caretaking. But then again, we're still just starting out by the introductions. I haven't moved on to testing any actual treatment. I was going to try and get to that tomorrow. But…he might still be a little flawed in his scanner."

"Hmm…" Callaghan seemed thoughtful now. He stopped, reaching up and rubbing his chin with a dubious gaze. He looked Baymax up and down, and the robot did the same to him. "Over ten thousand medical procedures?" he repeated, and Tadashi nodded again. "And you haven't started testing him physically on it?"

"Well…no, no, not yet," Tadashi mumbled. But before he could let his teacher down, he said hastily: "I did start testing his scanner, though. It seemed like there might be a minor flaw in it…maybe…but…" He felt his face grow hot. He was acutely aware of the fact that Professor Callaghan had come all the way over here just to see how he was doing. That, or he had a few other students around, though it had been pretty quiet whenever Tadashi was stationed. The last thing he wanted to do was let down the one man that he looked up to and regarded so highly. So he turned and looked at Baymax encouragingly. "Baymax, go ahead and try to scan him."

Callaghan straightened at the change. He started to say something, when Baymax went ahead to take initiative instead. He looked over the man standing in front of him and spoke once he was finished drawing his conclusions. Tadashi watched, his expression riddled in tension as he crossed his fingers behind his back. Sure enough, he let out a little bit of a sigh when Baymax began to spurt his facts, just as he had been programmed to do. "According to my sensors, your blood type is AB negative. You weigh approximately 178 pounds. Your heartrate is elevated far above normal levels."

Callaghan was silent for a moment, just staring at the creation almost blankly. But then he pulled back, turning to Tadashi with a laugh. "Well, that's quite impressive," he exclaimed, Tadashi beaming at once from the small compliment. "Though I'm not surprised, Tadashi. I would expect nothing less than perfection from you."

A niggling part of Tadashi's mind brought up the fact that because of this, there was no other alternative than to understand that what Baymax had said before in respect to him was complete truth. But he refused to let his mind linger, knowing that such a thing would only make the situation all the more worse. He just focused on what Professor Callaghan was saying, as the instructor proceeded. "It seems to be coming along very nicely. I'll be interested to see where it goes from here once you put more work into it." He turned and glanced over at the boy, looking thoughtful. "He _does_ retain the knowledge, then? Of the medical programs?" he asked.

"He should, sir, yes. I haven't tested his ability to recite them, and I haven't tested his ability to follow through, but…technically he _does_ have his memory chip in," he said, a bit of his nerves coming back as he looked from Baymax to Callaghan. There was a long pause, and Tadashi offered a little weakly: "You could try and test him really quick…if you'd like. He could respond to questions, most likely. I don't think he's far enough along to actually mimic the actions he would take with it. And…well, it'd be kind of pointless, too…"

Callaghan glanced at him, his gaze expectant.

Tadashi cleared his throat and took the initiative. "Baymax." Baymax turned at once to look at him, the robot tilting his head to the side. The signal was meant to show that he was listening attentively to what was being told to him. That was a good installment as well for the patient to experience. A patient wanted nothing more than to be heard and to be understood. It was why Tadashi had programmed in the habit. He offered his project a small smile, silently trying to encourage him. "What do you do if someone faints?" he prompted.

Baymax blinked. Again, Tadashi was relieved to see that this aspect of him was functioning well. "If someone is to fall ill and faint, you should immediately put them on their back. It is imperative to lift their legs, in the effort to restore blood flow towards the head. If they do not gain consciousness within three minutes after, you should check their airway for clogging, or loosen any constricting clothes such as belts or collared shirts. If any signs of circulation are missing such as breathing or coughing, you should administer CPR right away. From there, the person should regain consciousness. If there are any more complications, they would arise from a separate issue, and whatever actions you should take would be based on that."

Tadashi smiled, a wave of relief washing over him from head to toe. He reached up and took off his hat, drawing a hand quickly through his hair. It was pulled off! He couldn't believe it! Callaghan looked awed and shocked, and unbelievably happy. "That's amazing, Mister Hamada!" he praised. "What else can it cover?"

"Anything and everything, I suppose," Tadashi said. "He's got ten thousand programs at his disposal."

Callaghan pursed his lips. "Would you mind if I asked some more?" he asked. Tadashi grinned and nodded, allowing the notion. Of course he would allow it— being told that he did a good job by his idol meant the world to him. So the older man turned and regarded the robot closely. "What would you do if someone is having a seizure?" he asked, a routine medical issue that anyone was bound to understand and be able to relay.

Baymax replied instantly. "If someone is overcome with a seizure, you must immediately move all furniture or other obstructions that the person could harm themselves on with their involuntary movements. You should turn the person on their side, so that they will not drown themselves with the possible build-up of fluid in their mouth. But at the same time, additional pressure should not be applied to the body. You should also refrain from trying to holding the person down, or trying to move them. Such an action could result in a dislocated shoulder, or further injury."

He nodded, seeming more and more impressed with each reply. It was all delivered in such a way that showed that each answer was ready and just waiting to be voiced. The robot was under no question an expert. Callaghan's mind was working along as the situation unfolded, and he proposed another ordeal to be resolved. "How about if someone breaks their arm?" he asked.

Tadashi was watching the interaction, his eyes flickering back and forth wildly as he hung on every word. It was vital that this work out for him. He didn't know what he would do if it wouldn't.

Baymax blinked. "If someone has broken their arm, you should assess the injury as best as you possibly can. If the bone has broken through the skin, you should stop profuse bleeding as soon as possible by firm pressure against the wound. You should immobilize the broken bone, making sure that the joints are free and that the pressure is not too tight as to cut off blood circulation. A simple splint is the best thing to use in order to help the broken bone. Once everything is set, you should apply ice to the area. Ice can reduce pain, as well as swelling or inflammation. All that is left after that is to make sure that the patient shows no signs of shock afterwards."

"That's amazing!" Callaghan remarked warmly. He glanced at Tadashi. "I'm very proud of you, Mister Hamada."

Tadashi absolutely swelled from the words, his eyes gleaming.

Callaghan leaned back and looked at Baymax with raised eyebrows. "What about a knife wound?" he asked, suddenly sounding thoughtful. Tadashi's smile faded a little bit, a sense of confusion coming over him instead as the man's voice changed a little bit. It wasn't much, but it was enough to be noticeable. Seeing this, Callaghan took in a slow breath. "You know how the city can be— on my way over here, I saw a group of paramedics cleaning up after some alley fight. One of the men they were taking away had an awful wound. Ripped his arm open." Baymax was watching him closely, listening to every word. Callaghan looked meaningfully at Tadashi. "If you want this robot of yours to be able to make use of itself, it should handle situations exactly like this, correct? In the city?"

Tadashi nodded, the puzzlement clearing. "Of course," he said. "I'd want him to help as many people as he possibly could, sir."

Callaghan turned back to Baymax, waiting. Sure enough, Baymax was armed with yet another sure-fire reply. "Blood loss is a serious problem that can lead to death. A person can usually live on after losing about forty percent of their total blood volume, but after that, the body has a harder time compensating with the loss. Organs and tissues of the body are supplied with oxygen by blood circulation; if the blood no longer circulates, then these systems could shut down. It is important to get blood transfusions to the patient as soon as possible. In a few days, they should then feel perfectly fine."

Callaghan still waited, looking at him as if he wanted more. So Baymax continued. "If the patient is unable to get a transfusion right away, you should give them fluids. It can take four to six weeks for a person to recover from major blood loss, however it depends on the individual and how much blood they have lost. If it is too much, they can suffer from headaches, nausea, anxiety, shallow breathing, rapid heartbeat, weak pulse, loss of consciousness, profuse sweating, and like symptoms. You also have to stop the bleeding, if it is continuing. Pressure may be applied to the wound to staunch it. If you are skilled, you could stitch it closed. Or there is cauterization as a last resort."

Callaghan grinned. He turned and looked over at Tadashi in satisfaction. "You seem to have been working very hard on this," he praised highly. "There's no doubt that this robot knows everything inside and out. Once you work out its motions if you haven't already, I'm certain of its success." Tadashi melted at the sentiment, and Callaghan nodded again, looking from Baymax to his creator. Then he cleared his throat and nodded his head. "Well, then, I suppose I best be off. I've got some more things to do around here and then I'm going to head home. I was just interested at the fact you've been here recently on your time away."

Tadashi grinned. "This place is my second home," he stated.

Callaghan seemed pleased. "I'm glad to hear it," he remarked. He turned and started for the door. "Though I will encourage you to take a break," he said over his shoulder. "Summer is for relaxing and having fun, after all. We can't have you starting the next school year burned out, can we, Mister Hamada?"

Tadashi turned and watched him go. "I guess not, sir," he relented. Behind him, Baymax lifted his hand up as if to wave goodbye. But his hand didn't exactly move— it just hung up in the air limply. Tadashi would have to fix that, and he made a mental note of the fact. "Thank you for coming!" he added hastily. "I was glad you could see what all I've been doing."

"Not as glad as I was to hear it," Callaghan replied, flashing him one last smile before he turned and went out the door. As soon as he turned his back on Tadashi, the smile dropped, and his face clouded over in anger and an unbelievable amount of stress. His steps were measured and calm all the way down the hall, but as soon as he rounded the corner, they were anything but. He broke into a run, racing down the hall and for his car as fast as his feet could carry him. Nobody else was around in the college campus to notice him sprint. Or to notice the twisted expression on his face. Or to notice, and wonder at, how fast he peeled out of the darkened parking lot.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He wasted absolutely no time. Because by this point, time just wasn't _left_. From his car, he sprinted inside and locked the door behind him. He skirted around the house in a rush, turning and opening the door that led downstairs. And from there, he rushed down, taking the steps two or three at a time. To the right of the staircase was a carpeted area with a large entertainment system. To the left was wood flooring and what led into the computer room. There were bookshelves as well, and a comfy-looking chair to read in. But it was mostly the wooden flooring that had driven Robert to station it all there.

Hiro was laying down on the ground, still unconscious, just Robert had left him. He was pale— he looked whiter than a sheet. Shortly after he had first passed out, Callaghan had acted as fast as he possibly could. First, he had taken Nozomi, who had fallen into a barking fit, into the kitchen bathroom, resolving not to let her out until everything was taken care of. Then, he'd sprinted and grabbed the rope and duct tape that were still in Hiro's room, grabbing a roll of gauze as well, before rushing back. Hiro had been bleeding onto the floor— the dining room was still smeared with the child's blood like some sort of murder scene. Callaghan had gathered him up in his arms and taken him downstairs. Callaghan deposited him there and then did his best to cut off as much of the boy's circulation as he could. He'd tied the rope around the crook of Hiro's arm, right before the site where the wound originated.

Robert had fastened the rope as tight as it would go, pulling it even more anyway for good measure. The skin had become clenched and even whiter from the pressure, but the cut-off did the trick. The bleeding had stopped— or at least, it had gotten much slower than it had been before. It hadn't been enough to solve the problem in terms of the blood loss, and Callaghan knew that he couldn't keep the rope there forever. But Robert had tied the same tight pressure around his leg as well, above the other stab gash. Then he had moved to wrap up the injuries, trying to put as much pressure against the slices as he could. He'd used about half of the entire roll with the efforts.

That had been right before he'd whipped into different clothes and sped for the college.

Now it was about an hour later, and that had been _with_ Callaghan pushing the speed limit the entire way there and back. He dropped down to his knees beside Hiro, who didn't even rouse as his clamor down the steps. The man stooped forward and gathered him in his arms, turning him so that the boy was on his back. He looked him over, eyes wide and frantic at the sight of him. The child looked sickly and ill, and his expression was rendered numb underneath unconsciousness. His eyelids didn't even flicker as he was shifted and handled.

The bandages that he had wrapped around Hiro's wounds before, were now soaked through with blood. They were damp to the touch, and Callaghan felt sick as he surveyed the damage. He swallowed hard and tried to decide what to do. He couldn't call an ambulance— he couldn't take Hiro to a hospital. Then everything that they had worked for – these last seven months that had been the happiest in Callaghan's life since Abigail had died – would be destroyed, and all for nothing. He couldn't let that happen. He _refused_ to let that happen. He would rather die than let anything like that happen. But…but Hiro…was he really prepared to…?

Callaghan shook his head quickly. He ducked down and pressed his forehead into Hiro's chest, the boy's head having drooped backwards limply with the way that he was behind cradled. Still, Hiro didn't move in the slightest. Someone could probably believe that he was sleeping for all he was aware, if it wasn't for the sheer amount of blood that was on him. Down the front and side of his shirt, and down his pants now. And it was absolutely coating his leg and his arm.

Callaghan choked back a sharp swallow. "How could you do this?" he asked, his voice coming out strained and tight. "How could you be so _stupid_?" How could he be so willing to throw this all away? Everything that they _had_!? Hiro just didn't understand yet; he _still_ just did not _understand_. That was all there was to it. It was the only answer. And as the answer settled inside of Callaghan's mind, he drew backwards, his expression narrowing down as he put Hiro back on the floor. Still, he could not garner any sort of reaction at all from him.

He didn't loiter for any longer. He turned and ran upstairs, running down the hall to the kitchen and getting out another knife from the drawer. He turned to the sink and ran hot water over the blade, steam filling the sink as he used dish soap to clean it off as best he could. And, remembering the half-empty bottle of alcohol he had in the fridge, he doubled back to grab that too. He grabbed the knife and rushed into the living room, turning to the electric fireplace in the center of the den and switching it on. It wasn't a real fire, but he hoped that it was as hot as one.

He shifted the guard of the fireplace and stuck the knife in so that the blade was resting on the logs. He could only wait then, his expression narrowed in anger, determination, and thought all at the same time. He was drowning in thoughts, yet none of them seemed to stop enough to foster and become the most dominant. It was all just a whirlwind. He didn't want to hurt Hiro— that was the last thing he wanted to do; Hiro was _his_ , he would _never_ want to bring harm to him. But this was what was _needed_. It was what he had to do to save him and keep him here. If Hiro hadn't been so _stupid_ and _idiotic_ then maybe he wouldn't have to do this. Afterwards, he would be sure to make it clear to Hiro that this would _never_ happen again. _Ever_. Under _any_ circumstances.

He would make him regret it.

After a while, Robert realized that the knife blade was almost glowing a dull orange. He figured that that was enough. Fetching an oven mitt that he could use to grip the other end, Robert handled it with great care. He picked up the bottle of alcohol next and then went back downstairs. Hiro was, predictably, just as he had been left on the wooden floor. Robert realized with a pang that the wood was smeared a dark red underneath Hiro. The pressure applied by the rope had stopped a majority of the bleeding, but it was still coming out in an alarming rate. He had to work fast.

Juggling the burning hot knife in the other hand, Robert set down the bottle of alcohol and instead turned to rip off a piece of duct tape. At the same time, he wadded up a small washcloth that he had fetched from the bathroom and pushed that into Hiro's mouth, setting the duct tape into place over it. The tape would keep the cloth from being spat out, and the cloth would effectively muffle any screeches that Hiro might give. Then, he set to the wrappings of the arm, resolving to do that injury first. He peeled off the wet bandages slowly, grimacing at the sight of torn flesh and ripped tendons that met him. It was a gory sight, and once the wrappings were off, blood began to bubble up and spill out over the deep sides of the injury. Robert unwound its entire length and set the mess off to the side to deal with later.

Once that was done, he turned and twisted off the cap of the bottle with a small amount of difficulty. It came off with a pop, and Robert moved so that he could hold Hiro down with his legs, seeing no other alternative as he had no free hands left. Still, Hiro was unconscious— oblivious to everything that was going on and everything that was about to happen. He was still that ghostly pale color as well. His chest moved in low twitches; his breathing was much shallower and sparser than it normally was. His lips were turning pale, and Callaghan knew that the next stage would be for them to turn blue from the lack of oxygen.

He could suffocate.

But Callaghan pushed the worries aside. He was objective now. He didn't let emotion get in the way.

He had to keep Hiro from dying.

Callaghan knew what was to come, and so he braced himself on top of Hiro, anticipating the reaction that was sure to spring up in response. He hovered over the boy and tipped the bottle of alcohol over, watching its contents spill from the lip of the glass, down to hit against the long rip that the knife had created. And as soon as the liquid hit against the slash, Hiro sprang into awareness. His eyes snapped open, and Callaghan could feel his entire body tense and go rigid in agony. His back arched, and the boy let out a scream that probably would have been ear-splitting, had it not been the gag that kept it soft. Hiro's back arched in pain, and his body went into spasms as Robert just continued to pour the alcohol down the entire length of the limb. All the way down right before the wrist, where the injury ended.

Hiro must have either not realized that there was a gag keeping back his screams, or he just didn't care. The boy writhed and convulsed in absolute pain, his face broken into the expression as the alcohol stung and burned his arm. Along with the alcohol, blood was washed down onto the wood flooring, the two liquids melting together and pooling around Hiro in a sickening reddish-orange puddle.

Once the wound was sanitized, Robert moved to hold the hot knife in one hand, and use his other to hold Hiro's arm down by the wrist. He knew that this would only put Hiro into more pain, but he had dedicated himself to the effort. It was the only chance he had now to keep him here. He turned and glared down at Hiro, whose eyes were streaming and who was still convulsing, despite how weak the jerks and twitches were. "You made me do this," he growled out through clenched teeth, and Hiro closed his eyes tightly, his fingers curling as he let out another heartbreaking shriek. "You left me no choice!" Callaghan went on to snap. "Keep still!"

He looked down and started to line up the knife to the first inch of the wound. He would go little by little and burn it closed, making sure that there was no space for any more bleeding. He would take care of this problem quickly and neatly, and make sure that such a thing never happened again. But Hiro was shaking from head to toe, and his body was shaking as if he was having a seizure. The adrenaline of fear and from the pain that the alcohol had inflicted was helping him be this active— otherwise, from such a massive blood loss already, he would be as still as a statue.

Robert seethed in frustration and panic. He turned, baring his teeth and doing the only thing he could think of to calm Hiro down and get him to stop moving so much. If he did not stop moving, then Callaghan wouldn't be able to fix his injury at all. So he reared back with his free hand and launched it forward, slapping Hiro across the face with as much strength as he could possibly muster. Hiro's head was thrown to the side in the aftermath, and his eyes grew distant and fuzzy with shock from the harsh blow. He stilled, going into a brief paralysis. And Callaghan acted before such a thing could be reversed.

He pressed the hot blade of the knife down against the start of the injury. Hiro immediately screeched, tears rushing down his face as went into another fit of seizure-like movements. Despite the pain in his legs, he struggled to kick out, and despite the pain in his back, it jerked upwards as if struck by lightning. Callaghan forced him down, grumbling harsh obscenities as he held the hot blade there long enough to seal together the edges of the wound. He moved down the length of Hiro's arm, holding him in spot and thoroughly immobile, save for his jerks of agony.

He repeated the movement and got halfway down Hiro's arm before listening to his muffled screaming pushed Callaghan over the edge. It wasn't loud of course— not with the washcloth swallowing up a majority of the noise. But it was enough to send Callaghan reeling. He slapped Hiro across the face again, this time just as hard, if not harder, than the last time. He leaned closer to Hiro and planted his free hand down hard on Hiro's throat, briefly cutting off the boy's air supply.

Hiro's eyes immediately widened, and he started to heave thickly into the gag, struggling to draw in the oxygen his body was already begging for. "You're _pathetic_ ," Callaghan growled, spitting the words in between his clenched teeth. Hiro's breathing was still just as shallow, but it was increasing in its speed. His head was reeling with the hyperventilation, and his movements were quickly becoming groggier and groggier, but Robert didn't seem to care in the slightest. "Abigail would _never_ have done this," Robert continued in a snarl. "Until you become more like her, you're _nothing_. What were you like _before_ this?"

Hiro was still struggling for air, looking as if he was about to vomit. Robert took his arm back harshly, the boy immediately inhaling though his nose. But he had only taken his hand back to hold Hiro's arm down again, and so he moved on to press the knife down against another section of the wound to seal it closed. The teenager's head lolled to the side, his breathing quickening as his eyes threatened to roll back into his head again.

Robert continued in his snarl. "You were nothing but a piece of _crap_. Your brother would always come into class _complaining_ about you— how you always talked back and never listened and always went Bot Fighting." Hiro groaned, twitching harshly as the searing knife was pressed against his skin again. That, or he was trying to cringe away from Callaghan's words. "He didn't love you, he _hated_ you. Ninety-nine percent of the time, he was complaining about you to his friends. He never _shut up_. Now I bet he's relieved that you're gone. It would explain why he seems so much _happier_."

Hiro garbled out something, but through the gag, it was impossible to tell whether or not he was actually making sense, or if he was just delirious from the pain. Callaghan wasn't in the mood to try and figure it out. He just kept going, burning the self-inflicted wound closed one small burst at a time. The skin left behind in the efforts was singed and blackened. And though the injury was closed in exactly the way that Callaghan had wanted, the skin was left looking mutilated and damaged beyond repair. The smell of burning flesh and blood was overpowering, and it was enough to make Robert feel sick.

Callaghan was nearing the end of his arm. By now, Hiro's head had lolled to the side, and he was barely reacting to the torture of the still-burning hot knife being pressed hard into his arm. It was like he didn't even notice it, yet it couldn't be more obvious to him. Even his breathing had slowed down, despite the pain that was shaking him to the very core of his body. He had broken out in sweats, and every so often, despite the heat from the knife, his body would break out into a shiver.

He stopped trying to fight.

Finally, Robert finished pressing the hot knife against the stretch of Hiro's wound. From his shoulder to above his wrist, Callaghan had sealed it closed with the hot blade. Satisfaction filled him to the brim, and only then did he reach up and untie the tight rope that was tied underneath Hiro's arm. It was safe to do so, now that the wound was fully dealt with. Though if Hiro felt any sense of relief from the alleviation, he didn't show it in the slightest. His expression had dulled over into more of a numb look.

Callaghan stared at him levelly for a moment before shaking his head in a sense of severe disappointment. "Oh, Hiro," he sighed, his voice suddenly downtrodden. "…We'll get through this. I know we will." His voice darkened now, and he added in a low hiss: "Because we both now that nothing like this will _ever_ happen _again_."

Hiro still just stared off into space, unresponsive. His eyes were only half-open now, and they were losing whatever attentive light they had managed to get in the first sudden jolt of pain. The only sign that he had heard Callaghan at all was the tears that slipped down his cheeks. Though of course, those could be from a multitude of things.

Robert certainly didn't notice the child's distress. Or if he did, he showed no sign. He just turned and picked up the bottle of alcohol again. He shifted to hold down Hiro's ankle now, hiking up the boy's jeans too harshly and slipping off those bandages as well. By now, blood and alcohol were spreading across the floor, seeping into Hiro's clothes and all of his senses. The stink was disorienting, and the boy looked dangerously close to getting throwing up.

Callaghan lifted up the bottle and began to tilt it over. "I just _wonder_ when you will learn," Callaghan sighed, in a voice that was almost gentle.

Hiro groaned again, half-aware and losing consciousness all over again now. His expression was fuzzy, and incoherent mumbles were leaking through the gag, as if he was trying to talk and all that was coming out was numbed gibberish.

The alcohol spilled out of its glass and hit against the start of Hiro's leg wound.

And the torture started all over again.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

The doorbell rang shrilly, and the conversation dropped a little bit, pleased smiles gracing the faces of who were gathered. Nozomi broke into a fit of barks, hopping from one foot to the other as she raced towards the door. "That must be our last guest," Callaghan said, dethatching himself from the conversation he was currently in as he turned and went for the front door. The little dog wound around, looking frustrated as she yipped at the top of her lungs. Ignoring her and shooing her to the side, Callaghan reached over and opened the door.

"Mrs. Klein!" he said, a smile splitting over his face. "Welcome! The best always comes last to the party."

Mrs. Klein grinned warmly. She came inside once Callaghan beckoned her, and she looked down to fix the bottom of her dress. "Good to see you, as always," she said, her voice affectionate. She turned and started to head for the kitchen, where she could hear an array of voices. It was where the party usually started out. "This get-together is always the one thing in summer I look forward to," she admitted with a grin.

"Well, it's tradition," Robert replied, following her. "We've always got to have one last celebration before the school year picks up again."

The party was always something that the teachers planned sometime in the month of July, before their free time was then swallowed up by grading tests and papers and evaluations. It had fallen on Callaghan to host the party this year. It had taken some hard cleaning, of course. He had to scrub away the blood that had been in the dining room, and he had washed the knife that had ripped Hiro's arm and leg open five times over in the dishwasher. But he had gotten everything under control. Now, the place was pristine and clean, he was handing out drinks to the faculty that was closest to him, and music was playing out of a stereo in the kitchen.

Some of the teachers had pooled out into the living room, the kitchen too small to hold them. But they were all talking and laughing together. At the start of this tradition, the only people that tended to talk together were those who saw each other a lot in the day, or who taught in the same type of departments. Now, after getting together for so long, everyone was friends with everyone. They mingled and talked and laughed, making a dull roar of conversation fill the home.

Walking back towards the kitchen, Callaghan was hailed down by the Physics instructor, Professor Wilson. "Robert!" he called, the man stopping with a wide grin. He excused himself from Mrs. Klein, turning instead to go and join the small group in front of the fireplace. "How have you been, recently?" he asked. "We haven't caught up together since the last day of school! How did your Finals turn out?"

Robert laughed. "Well, you know my class," he mused. "Half did amazing, and the other half did a bit less than that."

Wilson's eyebrows raised. "Really? You can hardly catch a break, can you?" He laughed, and Robert followed suit, making small talk that didn't really mean much. But it was pleasant, accompanied with the music that obstructed noise in the background. "I assume you have higher hopes for this year— maybe getting _all_ your students to knock it out of the park? You seem much less cynical than usual." This was said with a teasing lilt, and he winked at the other, who gave another laugh.

"You never know," Callaghan said pleasantly. "But I like to think that happiness can come from more than just work."

Wilson chuckled. "Sure, if we're talking about someone other than _you_." He tilted his head to the side, his grin growing slowly and his eyes lighting up. "So what's got you so excited?" he pressed. "Don't tell me you've finally gotten yourself up to find a girl?" Callaghan smiled, and Wilson grew a bit more eager. "You know, Pam down at the Welcome Center lost her husband a month ago. She's already out dating again. It's been years for you; did you finally decide that it was time?"

"No, I haven't starting dating," Callaghan shot down, watching as Wilson wilted a little bit. Nevertheless, the teacher kept his own smile on his face. He stuffed his hands down into his pockets and gave a small nod. "But I have met _somebody_ ," he said, his voice turning softer now as he gave another small burst of laughter. Wilson's eyebrows raised and he looked as though he was about to ask for further clarification. But before he could, Callaghan suddenly looked to the side, his expression changing quickly. "Woah— what are you doing?" he asked quickly.

One of the guests had branched off to the door that led down into the basement. She straightened a little bit, looking alarmed as she froze mid-reach. "O-Oh," she said, smiling awkwardly as she pulled back a bit slowly. "I was just going to look for the bathroom." She must be new teaching, Callaghan realized. He couldn't put a name to her face. The woman frowned a little uncertainly. "Is there...is there not a bathroom down there?" she asked.

"There is," Callaghan said. But as she reached over for the door again, he went on hastily: "But I didn't get a chance to clean down there. It's a real mess. There's a bathroom in the kitchen, if you'd like to use that. I just closed the basement door in the hopes that nobody would go down there. It's a bit embarrassing; I've got so much to do with the new school year, that I couldn't down even put a dent the clutter."

She blinked, looking from Callaghan to the closed door. After a moment she recovered and nodded. "Of course! I'm sorry." She seemed flustered, but turned for the kitchen obediently. Callaghan watched her go, feeling a sense of satisfaction and relief as she walked away from the door. He watched it for a few more moments, his gaze thoughtful. Then he shook his head, clearing it before turning back to Wilson and picking up the conversation.

"Anyway," he brushed aside. "What's new with you?"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

The last person straggled out around midnight. That was when Callaghan began to clean up, switching off the music and putting away the drinks and plates of food. It didn't take him very long at all to pick up after the get-together. Once he did, he stopped in the middle of the living room, surveying it with a careful eye. Then he turned and looked towards the door the led downstairs.

Nozomi was up and about, rushing from one room to the other. He'd given her three baths just to get the blood out of her fur. She was fuzzy and the smell of soap permeated whatever room she was in. Throughout the night, the guests had fawned over the new addition, trying to pet her and hold her like anybody automatically did when they saw a cute dog. But, just like now, she was on the prowl. She was running around, her nose working hard as she sniffed and drank in the air. She was looking for the missing piece of the puzzle. She hadn't seen him in a while; by now, she was strung-out, and losing her mind in apparent confusion.

Callaghan took in a slow breath before he turned and went to the kitchen, filling up a cup of water before going downstairs. He didn't mean to let Nozomi down, but the dog broke into a sprint, and he couldn't manage to hold her back. She was like a rocket down the steps; he was impressed she didn't fall over herself. She didn't even pause, before she veered left, and Callaghan quickened his pace to keep up. He rounded the corner, holding tight to the cup as he started for the corner of the computer room.

The room was dark. And it would have been completely silent had it not been for the harsh, shallowed breathing that was rasping from Hiro. He was on his side, his arm and leg splayed out in limp directions. His chest was heaving in twitching movements, and his eyes were half-lidded and glazed over. The air was thick with the smell of burned skin, sickness, and sweat. Hiro had been sweating ever since he had first started bleeding, yet Callaghan could see that the small boy was shivering violently.

Robert walked over and leaned down to crouch beside him. Hiro wasn't even roused by his newfound presence. Or even Nozomi's, even though the dog was sniffing at him furiously, seeming alarmed. Her fur was standing straight on end, and she fell into a groan of whimpers as she flattened herself to the floor. Callaghan's forehead creased the way a mathematician's would when they looked at a perplexing equation. Hiro's movements were weak at the most, but he seemed to be heaving and jerking. If his expression wasn't so numbed over, he would have thought that Hiro would appear panicked.

Callaghan leaned over and grabbed the tape that was over the boy's mouth. He peeled it away, and almost immediately, Hiro used his tongue to force the washcloth out right after. Callaghan's nose wrinkled at the smell— the back of the towel was stained with bile. And sure enough, as Callaghan looked from the mess to the boy, Hiro tensed and ducked forward, choking for a heartbeat before he vomited. There wasn't a lot that came up, considering he hadn't eaten in forever. He choked and whimpered in deep pain as he got sick, the noises coming out small and pathetic.

Eventually he was done, bile staining the side of his face and making a small puddle on the wood below him. He let out a shivering sigh that scraped loudly against his throat. He fell still again, save for the shivers and tremors that wracked his body. He was far too pale. But he was still breathing. Callaghan leaned over, holding out the cup for Hiro to sip from. "Here. Drink some of this." Hiro didn't even open his eyes more. He just continued to gasp weakly in and out, staring into space through half-lidded eyes. For all Callaghan could see, the boy wasn't even aware of him.

Robert leaned further, forcing the rim of the cup between Hiro's lax lips. He began to tilt it forward, and he watched the water drain into the child's mouth. At first Hiro spluttered, choking and gagging as Callaghan tightened his hold. Thankfully enough, something seemed to register with whatever mind Hiro still retained. His throat began to move in short twitches, and he swallowed the water down in a sense of sharp need. Like he'd been in the desert for three months straight.

The cup was more than half drained when Callaghan took it back. Fluids— that was what Baymax had said was important. So it was what Robert had given him. Every day, he had come downstairs to give Hiro water. He'd changed his bandages as well, trying to make sure that there was no risk of infection or worse. But despite the efforts, the injury was a pain to even look at. The skin around the wounds was blackened and red— inflamed and irritated beyond repair. And even though the sides of the gashes had been fused together, the rips were burned, and they looked twisted and warped in a painful way. The stench that they gave off was sickening.

Hiro hadn't moved his leg or his arm ever since he'd torn them.

Callaghan turned to leave. Every time that he had come down here, he had tried to pry conversation out of Hiro. But Hiro had never been able to react. That, or he was ignoring him. Callaghan had stopped trying a few days ago, and he had stopped trying to make excuses for the boy as well. At first, he had just patted his head gently and smiled, telling him that they would try talking the next day. But that was tired out soon enough. All he felt now was frustration and anger. At what Hiro had done, and at the fact that he was not better yet.

If he just had used his head, they would not be in this situation.

This was all Hiro's fault.

Hiro's teeth were chattering. He was freezing, despite the fair temperature of the house. Callaghan didn't think of it much. He started to reach to the side, when all of a sudden, a small wheeze literally forced itself into being. It was almost nothing— a mere shadow of what speech really should be. The only reason it was heard at all was because there was no other sound to overtake it. "I…" Robert immediately looked back to see Hiro's paled lips moving ever so slightly. His expression was still numbed, and his eyes were still lifeless. But he was forcing himself to speak nevertheless. "I…have…t-…bathroom," he breathed out.

It had been a week, and he hadn't passed any urine whatsoever.

This was the first time that he had shown any need to at all.

Robert studied Hiro closely. The boy closed his eyes as the need slipped through his weak lips. Instead of speaking further, the only noise that came from Hiro next was his weak, shallow wheezes. Callaghan looked at the bandages on his arms, which had begun to brown over. He would have to change them. But for the moment he just stared, considering what his reply should be. Finally, he spoke, his voice blank and apathetic. Hiro forced his eyes to open, the effort monumental for the simple action.

"Well…" Callaghan's eyes narrowed a bit and he looked down at the small child. He looked skinnier than a rail. "You probably should have thought about that before you went and did this," he growled.

Hiro's eyes sparked with a sense of desperation. He shifted as if to move and stand up, when the agony that ripped through his arm and his leg stopped him from doing anything else. He floundered, a heartbreaking noise leaking out of his throat as tears beaded up in his eyes. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Callaghan wasn't in the mood. He turned and grabbed the washcloth from the ground, which was still stained with vomit. He pushed it back into Hiro's mouth, who immediately reacted in disgust and terror. He began to twist and writhe again, the movements inept and barely noticeable.

It made putting the duct tape back over his mouth simplistic.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Everything hurt.

He could hardly breathe. It felt like he was struggling to draw in air through a straw with every inhale. His head was reeling, which left the room to spin around him and the floor to fall away from where he was laying. A few times he had grown coherent enough to try and get up, but even the smallest twitches of his muscles brought torture to cloud his mind. Really, that was how most of the time was passed. Hiro wasn't even aware of how long he had been like this. All he knew was pain. And a lot of it.

He was absolutely freezing, too. His shivering caused a sharp amount of pain all by itself. But he couldn't bring himself to stop it. He felt sick and gross. His shirt and pants were sticking to him from sweat, and his hair was damp, and in his eyes. His mouth tasted like vomit from the cloth that was taped into place, and this fact managed to permeate the fog of his mind, he was reduced into a fit of weak gags; it was all he could do to stop himself from getting sick again.

He didn't know how long he was here. He didn't know how long he was _going_ to be here. Like _this_.

Callaghan came down. Hiro was vaguely aware of him doing something with his bandages— sometimes he could grasp the fact that he was being given water, or he was being shifted. But his focus came in and out. What he gathered was small and minimal. He could sometimes hear Callaghan saying something— he could hear the drone of his voice. But he couldn't make sense of the actual words. And every day it just seemed to get worse. Every day, Hiro seemed to get colder and colder. Less and less things could click and make sense.

He could not move.

His pants were sticking to him with sweat, and before too long, he could not stop them from sticking to him with urine as well.

Disoriented and groggy, Hiro's head was slack to the side. He grimaced blearily and struggled to call out for someone. But he couldn't get his tongue to work and listen to him. He couldn't get anything to listen to him anymore. It was all he could do to seep air down into his lungs, which hurt more than anything else possibly could. It would be pointless, though. Even if he could call out for someone, they wouldn't hear thanks to his gag. He didn't even know who to call out to, though.

He had never felt more alone.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"You've been working here a lot," Honey Lemon remarked, her voice warm. Tadashi glanced at her from the coffee machine, offering her a small smile. He was picking up after the day's work, having finished wiping down the counters just a few minutes ago. Now he was in the middle of mopping up the appliances. It was routine, and it was a routine he had been doing a lot of over the summer. Aunt Cass had gone upstairs to start dinner. She preferred to be alone sometimes, and he was more than willing to compensate. "You must be itching to get back to school," she went on. "I know I am."

"I'm a little worried about it, actually," Tadashi admitted, surveying the machine in front of him with pursed lips. He glanced over at Honey Lemon to see that she looked a little uncertain. He shrugged and moved on to add: "I just…feel like I should stick around a bit more," Tadashi admitted. "It's why I stopped working on Baymax until school picks up again. Aunt Cass has been getting…she's been getting a little bit worse…almost. I mean…as time goes on." He frowned and looked down at the towel he was holding. "So…once school picks up, most of my time will be taken up again."

Honey Lemon wilted. She shifted on the bar stool she was perched on, locking her fingers together. "How's she doing, then?" she asked in a small murmur. It was nearly August. Their second year of college would start soon; but that wasn't the most important thing to focus on. The most important thing to think of was that in a few short months, it would be a year that Hiro was missing. An entire year— twelve whole months.

Wherever he was now, he was fifteen, not fourteen.

"Like you'd expect," Tadashi sighed, his voice turning weary and tired. He shook his head. "Sometimes she's great— like nothing's changed. She just finished an entire three days where she was completely normal. We went on a walk, even. She was telling jokes. But…then she'll see something that reminds her of Hiro. She'll walk down the hallway and see a picture of us together, or she'll accidentally start to get out a third plate for dinner. And…then she'll just wither away."

He frowned, his expression growing remorseful. "She doesn't get as upset as she used to. That is…she doesn't have any mental breakdowns or anything like that. Now she just…gets really quiet. There's no point in trying to talk to her when she gets like that because you know there's no way she'll reply. And…whenever she smiles, it's like she's holding something back, or trying to cover something up. She goes to bed earlier. It's just…slumps like that that she gets into sometimes and it always takes a while for her to recover." He looked at her with a heavy expression. He shrugged again. "I usually just…wait. And try to help her as much as I can."

"That's…that's awful," Honey Lemon whispered.

Tadashi hesitated, just staring at her. After the hesitation he shook his head. "I dunno. Maybe." Honey Lemon seemed puzzled, and he turned back to the appliance. "It's just…a lot for her to deal with. She lost her sister, and her mother and father too. Now she's gone and lost her nephew." He bit down on his lower lip and paused for a long moment. He cleared his throat. "She's just upset. And she has a right to be. I'm not going to…batter her and try to force her to feel better, it'll only make it all worse. I'm just…there for her. I do some of the café work, and I make sure she's alright. That's all that matters to me."

The blonde studied her friend closely. "And you…?" she prompted after a pause. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine." The reply was curt.

Her eyebrows raised. She didn't want to push, but… "You don't seem fine."

He flashed her a look, turning and starting to transition over to the pastries below the counter. "Do you want me to sing and dance?" he asked. "Because I left my tap dancing shoes upstairs. I'll have to run up and get them."

"No," she sighed. "I just want you to be honest with me. About how you feel."

"It's almost been a year, Honey Lemon," Tadashi snapped, brushing aside crumbs that marred the décor of the sweets. "A year and I still have no idea where Hiro is. The police haven't heard a single thing. Even a _sighting_ of Hiro hasn't been phoned in." He straightened, looking at her with a sorrowful gaze. "It gets harder and harder to make it look like I'm not stressed out and _upset_ , and it just gets even more impossible when people _pester_ me about it." She seemed hurt by the words, and he quickly realized this. He sighed, closing his eyes and doubling back. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer. "Forget I said anything; you don't deserve to be yelled at. You've been nothing but good to me."

"It's alright," she said gently. "I understand."

He stared off into space for a few moments, his heart heavy. When he went on, his voice was a small mumble. "I'm worried, Honey Lemon," he confessed. He was whispering now. The girl sat up straight at this, her eyebrows pulling together at the new tone in his voice. He turned to meet her eyes, suddenly looking much older. When she only looked bemused, he went on slowly. "I'm worried that nothing is going to be the same again," he rasped. "That Aunt Cass will always have these slumps…and never _really_ be happy again. That I'll never see Hiro grow up into the person I always knew he could be. I'm worried I'll never get to see him meet someone and get marred— live a life with them and have a kid of his own." He swallowed thickly, flinching. "I'm worried that I'll stay like this…always faking that everything is fine. That I'll just…continue pretending to be happy."

Honey Lemon seemed pained. She leaned over and put her hand gently on top of his, which was planted on the countertop. "You don't have to _pretend_ to be happy, Tadashi," she protested weakly.

He grimaced. He ducked away and replied sorrowfully: "Pretending is better than facing the fact that I just can't get myself to be," he confessed.

There was a long stretch of silence.

Tadashi whispered out the thought that he had been trying to stifle for weeks now.

"They're not going to find him," he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

Honey Lemon grimaced against a well of pain at the words. She stood quickly, turning and rounding the counter of the café only to pull her friend close with as much force as she could possibly muster. Tadashi inhaled sharply, leaning down and ducking into her shoulder. He clung to her, and she heard him give a small sniff. "Of course they'll find him, Tadashi," she whispered encouragingly, fighting off her own tears as he felt her eyes begin to sting. "Please don't tell yourself anything else. Hiro _will_ be found. I _know_ he will. Don't you?"

Tadashi didn't reply. He gave a small sob and just held onto her.

She decided that speaking wouldn't do much good.

So she took a page from Tadashi's book, and just took to being silent and offering him comfort. She wished she could be so much more. But she was content to act as a rock. If Tadashi was willing, he was more than welcome to cling to her, to keep himself afloat against the waves of sorrow that threatened to pull him under.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Hiro..." Darkness surrounded Hiro on all sides. Everything was numb, and he almost felt like he was floating through nothing at all. He perked at the sound of his own name and turned, trying to see through the fog that was permeating his mind. "Hiro!" That voice…he knew it. There was no mistaking it. But…but then this wasn't real, was it? Blearily, he struggled to make sense of things— to tell up from down. It was almost impossible. "Hiro! Come on, you Knucklehead!"

Hiro turned, finally seeing him through the fog. It _was_ him. A smile immediately spread across Hiro's face, from one ear to the other. His chest felt much too tight, and he felt tears prick his eyes as he saw Tadashi. His older brother was grinning just as big, standing about twenty yards away with his hands shoved down into his pockets. He was exactly like Hiro remembered; he was wearing his same old hat, and even from here, Hiro could see the same old soft look that lived in the elder's eyes. The sight of Hiro seemed to be just as rewarding as seeing Tadashi was for Hiro. He grinned and called out again. "Come on, Genius! Let's go!"

"'Go?'" Hiro asked, his voice small and weak. He sniffed and made a move to rub at his eyes, though he wasn't exactly sure whether or not he really did that. He didn't really care though. He just tilted his head to the side and asked again: "Go where?"

"We've got to go!" Tadashi just reiterated. "C'mon!"

Hiro grinned. He started to move after, but he felt as if a million pounds were holding him back. Moving was suddenly the equivalent of dragging. Tadashi turned once Hiro began to take initiative, starting to lead the way. Seeing this, Hiro's heart skipped a beat, causing pain to rip across his chest. "W-Wait!" he yelped, his voice grating against his throat. "I can't— I can't keep up!" he wailed. Tadashi's stride didn't even falter though, as he kept on. Hiro struggled, trying to force his body into a run, but he couldn't even walk. He was being held back. "Tadashi, _wait_ for me!" he cried desperately, watching his brother get farther and farther away. "Don't leave me!"

Tadashi's back was to Hiro; he didn't even glance over his shoulder.

Hiro sobbed, floundering and struggling. It was pointless, he knew. But he had to catch up to him. He had to catch up…he had to catch up…he had to catch up… " _Tadashi_!" he screeched, stumbling and staggering after. He was getting nowhere. "I can't leave!" Hiro sobbed, screaming in the effort to have Tadashi hear him and possibly double back. "Tadashi, I can't leave!" he repeated hopelessly. Still, his brother was deaf. He just kept walking. "Tadashi, please don't leave me behind! I can't leave— _you_ have to come to _me_!"

He watched his brother walk into the fog, disappearing from view.

He screamed as loud as his lungs would allow. " _Tadashi, don't leave me, please_!"

Callaghan was sitting silently on the ground beside Hiro. His gaze was pensive and thoughtful as he studied the boy, who was still on the ground. He was running a high fever; despite his shivering, Callaghan could feel the heat that was radiating off of him. The bandages had been changed on his arm and his leg, but the wounds still smelled foul and sour. Hiro's eyes still had that same vacant look, and they still only managed to be halfway open. However, his pupils were going every which way, flickering to the left the right with rapid movements.

He was mumbling underneath his breath, his words slurred and his syllables bleeding together in a mesh. "Don't leave…please don't leave…Tadashi…no, please…don'tleavemepleasedon'tleavemehere…"

Callaghan sat cross-legged beside Hiro, his hands folded together in thought as he just looked at him.

He did absolutely nothing.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro was in and out. By now he had no idea what reality was. What separated his fevered deliriums from tangible occurrences? Surely there was no line anymore. He couldn't even tell what this one was. By now it was hard for him to feel anything at all. It was what led him to assume that he was dreaming again, or in some state of nothing. Because whenever he did have spurts of coherence, pain was the only thing he could possibly fathom.

"Hey. You look a little bit worn out. You okay?"

He turned, blinking as he looked over at his shoulder.

He was not surprised at who he saw.

Abruptly, he turned and looked away.

A small sigh came from the voice. "Don't worry," it pressed. "You're going to be just fine. I know these things." There was a small pattering of footsteps, and then she planted himself in front of him. Abigail stared at Hiro, the pair just taking to looking at one another almost blankly. "Don't be angry. Come on." Her glasses matched Hiro's to a perfect point. " _Please_ don't be angry. You're going to be okay. He would never let you die. So you're not going to."

"How can you know?" Hiro rasped.

"'How can you know?'" she demanded. Then she grinned widely again. "I just do," she said, her voice sweet. "He loves you. Just like he loved me. So you're safe."

Hiro's lower lip trembled. Abigail's did as well, her smile abruptly changing to a look of deep sorrow as she wavered. "I just want to go home," Hiro whispered unsteadily. "I just want to go home, that was all I was doing. I didn't mean to kill myself. That wasn't what I wanted to _do_."

He sniffed, and Abigail did as well, at the exact same time. "'I just want to go home,'" she repeated, her voice trembling just as Hiro's had. "'I just want to go home, that was all I was doing. I didn't mean to kill myself. That wasn't what I wanted to _do_.'" She paused briefly, the remorseful look remaining on her features only briefly. Then Abigail recovered her cheery beam. "What makes you think you killed yourself?" she demanded. "I just told you— you're going to be fine. You couldn't kill anyone, remember? That was what you thought. So what makes you think you could kill _yourself_?"

Hiro grimaced. Abigail quickly did as well. "I'm _dying_ ," Hiro croaked. "Can't you see that?"

"'I'm _dying_. Can't you see that?'" Abigail pressed, her voice breaking in the exact spot that Hiro's had. Hiro soured, his watery eyes narrowing into a scowl. She immediately shifted to glare right back at him. But her voice was just as light when she replied. "I don't know," she chirped. "Can _you_? You seem awfully keen to predict your own death." She paused, before she repeated a bit softer: "He loves you."

"No. He doesn't," Hiro hissed.

''No. He doesn't,'" she parroted. Then she tilted her head to the side. "Oh, he does though. He really does; I would know. On the other hand, I don't think you would know love if it bit you. You keep thinking that Tadashi will come back and save you, like he's some sort of angel. But it's been a year. Isn't that funny? It's been an entire year, and you're still here. And Tadashi sees Callaghan every day! You think if he really cared, you wouldn't be here." She shook her head. "If I had to pick between the two of them who loved you the most, I think the answer would be pretty—"

" _Stop_!" Her speech was interrupted, both her and Hiro yelling the command at the same time.

Hiro's face fell. Abigail's did at well. Twitching, Hiro lifted his left arm from his side, bringing it up and waving it slowly from side to side. Abigail did the exact same thing, at the exact same pace. Like two sides of a mirror, they were evenly matched in everything from facial expressions to movements. Hiro's forehead creased over in confusion, as did Abigail's. His fingers curled in and out quickly, and hers did the same. He opened and closed his mouth, and Abigail mimicked the movement at once.

He dropped his arm limply at his side, looking dejected and puzzled.

She was like a shadow. She did the same.

Hiro stared at her, waiting for her to say something. To explain.

Abigail's face split into a beam. She giggled, wiping at her eyes as if something was just hilariously funny. "It really isn't _that_ hard," she laughed. She looked up at Hiro through her identical glasses, offering him a crooked grin and an assured nod. "But I guess I'm just _better_ at this whole thing than you are."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: I tried to do this chapter as much justice as I could. As you can probably tell, I did far too much research with this one, too. But I hope that it pays off. If you have any questions about any of it, I'd be happy to answer, as always!

You guys were just so awesome! I mean, _twenty reviews_!? Thank you guys so much! I knew that you all deserved this _super_ quick update. It was hard to type sixteen pages in the span of pretty much two days and make it good enough to put out. I hope I did it justice c:

Things are going to start to kick into gear, and I'm so pumped to write it! People have been asking how much longer this story will be, and though I don't have an actual number to hand over, I will say that these next few chapters will be the springboard for everything to kind of start coming together. Thank you guys for sticking with me up until now! It means so much to get to have people reading all of my work!

I will see each and every one of you in ten reviews! Thank you again from the bottom of my heart!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I got an A on the Anatomy test! You guys are so sweet, I had no idea anyone would even notice I mentioned an exam, let alone wish me good luck on it! So thank you; it helped!

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It's just what you _did_. It's what all parents _did_. You give kids an inch, and they will in turn take a mile. You allow them to act out, and they will only get worse as time wears on. That was the first thing that a new parent learns, and it is the thing that repeats incessantly in a parent's mind throughout their entire life. Going off of this idea, discipline is needed in a relationship between a parent and their child. There needed to be a sense of gravity, otherwise the entire thing would break down and combust. When a child acted out in the wrong, it was the parent's role to squash the specific activity at fault. It was a simple fact of life, and it was something that everyone knew.

So that was just what Callaghan was attempting to do.

This entire time, and there had been attempts— repeated over and over in a fashion that showed no point in stopping. One of the first nights he had been here, Hiro had tried running for the door. Even after Callaghan had stopped him then, Hiro still refused to yield and come to terms that this situation really _was_ what was best for him. He had tried to scream, he had tried to run, he had tried to reach out the window, he had tried tricking Callaghan, and now he had tried to do something as drastic as this. They all had one thing in common, at least— they were just _tries_. But for how long?

It was a question that was blatantly obvious in the back of Callaghan's mind for the longest time. How long would it be until Hiro did something that he would regret— that Callaghan himself would regret? Each time got closer and closer to finding its home and its target. Its overall goal. And Callaghan was not about to let that happen; not if he had a say in anything. He had worked too hard for Hiro to just throw it all away. He loved Hiro far too much for such reckless abandon to occur.

So he wasn't about to let this situation be anything more than the very last blunder between them.

It was why he was doing all of this. He had to make Hiro _understand_. He'd wanted Hiro to understand everything from the very first moment that he had opened his eyes here. Seven and a half months later, and he was still unable to grasp or comprehend how good this was for the both of them. He was still fighting, and Callaghan intended to stomp down on the last ember. Then, there would be nothing left; there would be absolutely nothing. Nothing but time together and a mutual understanding that Callaghan had been craving ever since the middle of last November.

When a child acts out, they are punished. They are not coddled or praised for their wrongdoings. They are not reassured that they will be alright, or that their actions would go dismissed to deal with for another time. Callaghan had let past instances slide with little to no grudges, thanks to the soft spot he held for the child— he hadn't _truly_ hammered in the nail of blame and consequence. Not enough to drive the point to where it needed to go. But this was the final straw. And so Callaghan was making this idea as perfectly clear as he possibly could.

Callaghan kept him alive. After losing so much blood, and being so weak already, Hiro was in a severe state of health. He was sick, and running fevers nearly every day. Sometimes they broke, but such an instance was intermittent, and it did not last for very long. Callaghan brought down water and food frequently; the water was easier to get down than the food was. And Hiro could not stomach much before he got sick— getting food down him was a cautious balancing act.

Yet as Callaghan did this, and took care of him, the older man was quiet. He didn't say much of anything at all. There was a frosty silence in the basement— the exact kind of silence that would follow a tense argument between two people, or the kind of silence that took place right after someone shouted something hurtful at the top of their lungs. Hiro did not speak either. Whether that was because he realized the change and was just as subdued, or whether it was because he was simply too weak and disoriented to say anything, was left to be determined. Whichever one it was, the two were silent for days.

Days that dragged on and on. Hiro wasn't getting worse, but it wasn't like he was improving, either. Whatever improvements might have been taking place were too miniscule to notice and hold onto. The child slept a lot, and when Callaghan woke him up to eat or drink, even then he was only about half aware of what was going on. Tiredness and disorientation was common after blood loss. Just as common as all of the other things Hiro was going through— the vomiting, the fever, the weak breathing, and so on. It was all normal, and so Callaghan resigned himself to falling into routine, trying to deal with the symptoms as best he could as Hiro's body worked to rebuild the blood that had been lost by his own hand.

Sometimes, when Hiro's fever was spiking, he would mumble and whine out in his sleep. The parts of his body that were not injured would twitch and spasm, as if he was trying to get up or move away. Such a thing only made Callaghan all the more determined to make sure that Hiro understood that this would end here. All of the attempts to leave and all the means of escape or defiance. They would all _stop_. He was determined to make it so. After all of this, Callaghan would accept nothing less than complete obedience from Hiro. And he was instilling that rigidly in the boy's mind.

He would repeat this in stiff growls to Hiro, as he dealt with the injuries, applying disinfectant or hydrogen peroxide to the painful-looking burns on his arm and on his leg. He would mutter things like: "If you had just _behaved_ , none of this would be happening." or "This is all your fault." or "Nothing like this will _ever_ happen again." He had no idea if Hiro was listening; he stayed just as silent and just as vacant-looking.

But that was how it all dragged out. For more than a week, Hiro was feverish and weak and getting sick every other minute, it seemed. Callaghan spent most of his time, however coldly, making sure that Hiro was still going. He would change the bandages and put an icepack on his forehead to try and alleviate the fever. That was what he had to do, in order to keep Hiro from dying. But it was where his efforts stopped. He did not hold Hiro's hand and whisper sweetly that he would be alright. He did not gather him close and offer him reassurance. Not yet. He forced himself not to be anything but angry. Because that was how punishment worked between a parent and their child. And it was something Hiro would have to realize quickly.

Now, Callaghan had just finished forcing Hiro to choke down a few more mouthfuls of food. Then he had gone upstairs, ignoring Nozomi, who barked furiously upon his exit of the basement. Now that Callaghan was barring her from going downstairs to see Hiro, she was more than cross and anxious. She passed the day sometimes just sitting at the basement door, her ears perked to listen out for anything as she tilted her head and grumbled every so often. Robert just turned and shot her a glare though, ignoring her completely and going upstairs.

He went into Abigail's room, surveying it silently for what seemed like ages. His expression was sharpened into a look of anger still, and as he took to pacing around the bedroom, it did not change. He was in a rut, and as the days stretched on, he was beginning to wonder whether or not this entire thing was ruined. He was doing all he could, and he was giving Hiro room to get better, but it just wasn't happening. At the thought, he reached up and ran his hands through his hair with a furious grumble. If this was the thing that took all of this away from him…

He couldn't let it happen.

But what else was he supposed to do!?

Callaghan had to bring the fever down first. Hiro had spiked up to 102 this morning, and anything higher would surely be nothing but fatal. He could draw an ice bath and put Hiro down into the frigid water. It might help to lower the dangerously-high temperature, and it could help to wash the injuries at the same time. It seemed like the best course of action to take, but even as it went through his mind, Callaghan could not staunch the feeling of anger that was still burning and twitching underneath his skin.

Right now, they could be doing so much more. They could have celebrated Hiro's birthday, they could have been together. They could have gotten closer, and they could have been happy. It had been almost a year now. At this point, there was no reason that Callaghan and Hiro shouldn't be close. The only reason that they _weren't_ was because of Hiro, and his constant efforts to be defiant.

By this point, they should both be happy. Wildly so. They weren't supposed to be like this.

His pacing was taking him around the room in tightly-knit circles. His mind was going in every which way, a mesh of anger and frustration and worry and overall confusion. He was not paying attention to where he was going— only what was slipping through his mind. However, before too long, he was forced to pay attention to where he was. Something caught the toe of his shoe, and he suddenly found himself pitching forward. A shocked yelp wrenched from his mouth, and he barely caught himself on the edge of Abigail's bed to save himself from collapse.

He growled underneath his breath, turning and looking down for the culprit of his stumble. Though puzzlement crowded his features as he caught sight of the small box that was poking out from underneath the bed. He leaned forward and grabbed it up, pulling it out the rest of the way so that he could open it. Inside, there was an assortment of random items. Or at least, at first glance that was all that he thought. But looking at the things closer, his heart twisted as he realized that he knew exactly what all of this was.

It was her memory box. Abigail had come home from school one day chattering all about the idea that her teacher had given the class. She was excited to put together a box devoted entirely to keepsakes. Callaghan had known that she was planning on making something like that, but he hadn't ever really followed up on it to see whether or not she did. But he could see all of these things and a warm feeling spread across his chest as could recall the details and stories he had shared with his daughter.

That bottle cap was from the soda they'd bought right after she had been given a medal of academic achievement from school. There was the small handkerchief she had kept from when she had gotten to play Juliet in her high school production. That was the movie ticket that Hikaru had bought her on her first date she'd been on with him. She had been so excited to go— the whole day she had been fussing on what to wear, and what she should do. Should she hold his hand first, or wait for him to make the move? Should she wear earrings or not try too much? Callaghan remembered he had been so irritated back then to be put through her questions. Now, all he could do was smile at the old memories.

She had been so sweet. The epitome of kindness and gentleness. It didn't even matter if Callaghan had just been through the worst day of his life— no matter what kind of rainy day, she was always like the sun that cleared away the sorrow. Hiro seemed like her on the outside. He wore her loose-fitting shirts, and he had the hair and now the glasses to match. They both had a gap in their teeth, though Hiro's was much bigger than hers had been before she'd gotten a corrective retainer.

He was like her on the outside. But he wasn't her in the sense of personality, and that was the biggest part of this entire thing. Callaghan had been struggling to bring him to Abigail's level this entire time. And he was _still_ struggling even now. He was tired of struggling— everyone got tired of struggling after some point in time. And after nearly twelve months, it was the breaking point for both of them. Hiro had broken and had been driven so far to rip open his arm and tear his leg. And now it was Callaghan's turn to break, and realize that things needed to change. He had no other choice _but_ to change and make sure that this was a turning point.

He looked down at the box, his expression clouding over as he looked at the collection of old remnants from Abigail's life. It was a slap in the face to remember each thing, and to recall how much of a joy she had been. She was his precious little girl, and she was gone now. All Callaghan had left now was Hiro. And so far, Hiro was not like her. He was still set in old ways. He was smart like her, and he was quick like her, and he was just as fiery. But that was where the similarities ended. What Hiro had that Abigail did, he used the traits in all the wrong ways. They were so close to perfection, and yet they were so far at the same time.

But of course, Callaghan had started all of this knowing that there was work to be done.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Music was blaring loudly overhead. In the wide space of the ballroom, it seemed to echo from one wall to the other. People were everywhere, dancing along to the beat as laughter and conversation mingled with the notes. Girls were spinning with their boyfriends, their face splitting into blissful smiles and their sparkling dresses swirling all around them, like clouds of glitter. Hiro was standing in the center of all the activity. He could feel his own smile stretched from one cheek to the other.

"Hey!" Hiro stirred at the yell, turning around to look over his shoulder. A boy was standing behind him, wearing a fancy suit and a slightly nervous expression. He had brown hair and green eyes, and at the sight of him, Hiro was slightly confused. Didn't he know that person? But if he did, the name would not come to him. They seemed to brighten when Hiro turned, and they pressed a little carefully: "You stopped dancing," he said. "Don't you want to dance with me?"

Hiro heard himself speak in a reply, though he wasn't sure whether or not he really made a conscious effort to. It was like he was watching everything play out— merely an audience member to some play or a movie. "I don't want to dance anymore," his mouth said. The music was playing, and inwardly, Hiro wondered whether or not he knew the song that was playing. But he couldn't make sense of it enough to distinguish rhythm or time. He knew it was music, but at the same time…he did not know. "I need to go," he heard his voice go on to say.

The boy across from him grinned widely. "I'll go with you," he offered.

Hiro found himself nodding. He turned and started to leave the room, heading for a door on the other end. The crowd seemed to part when he walked. The music still kept going, and Hiro still couldn't figure out what song it was. It looked like he was in a castle, for all the glamour and all the elegance that was around. But it wasn't a castle. _Well then, what is it?_ He didn't know. But he _did_ know that it wasn't a castle. Not at all.

He left the large room, and the door opened up into another one. Only this one was a type of room that he knew. It had tiled floor and sinks along the wall. There were stalls down on the farther end and there was a rack of paper towels near a trashcan by the door. Hiro's legs moved, but he did not walk over to one of the stalls. Instead he just went over to position himself in front of one of the sinks. He didn't look up though; he just stared down at the drain, as if he was trying to figure out what it was.

Behind him, the boy spoke up. "So you've changed your mind, then?" he asked, his voice seeming to echo around Hiro just like the music had. "You don't want to be a scientist! No! You've gone to new heights! You'll be a famous director instead!"

Hiro kept staring down at the drain. Again, he felt his lips move somehow and drag out his words by themselves. His voice sounded strange to his ears when it came into being. "Please," he rasped. "No thanks. I just like making videos to look at later. You know— things I don't want to forget." His voice…why did his voice sound so weird…?

Why…?

He looked up at the mirror, his eyes widening to be twice their normal size. Or…hers did. Abigail's reflection stared back at him from the mirror, her eyes wide and round with surprise. She looked exactly like she did in the tape. Her longer hair was pinned and curled, framed around her glasses with expertise. Her face was done up in makeup like it had been, and her lipstick-painted mouth was ajar slightly with shock. Hiro looked down at himself, the boy immediately losing control of his breathing, once he realized that this wasn't him.

It was _her_ body. She – he? – was in her sparkly blue dress— the dress she had worn to go to Prom. He looked down at his wrist, which was not his. Abigail's hand rose up to meet his line of vision, instead. It was trembling and shaking, violent in its disbelief. Neatly on the arm in front of him was the corsage that Hikaru had given her right before they had left her house. And as the thought connected, Hiro turned to look over his shoulder again, to the boy that was behind him.

Hikaru grinned, his expression gentle. "Nothing, nothing!" he said, a series of laughs nervous bubbling at his throat. He tilted his head to the side and looked at Hiro in way that caused a shiver to rush down his spine. Suddenly, he felt cold. He felt really, _really_ cold. "I just don't want to forget _you_ ," Hikaru pushed, his voice spilling over with affection— with love.

Hiro looked at him blankly, despite the fact that Hikaru was obviously waiting for him to say something in return. He was shaking from head to toe, unnerved even further by the glassy sort of smile that was splayed across Hikaru's face.

When he turned back to the mirror, Hiro realized that his reflection was back where it belonged now. But it looked wrong. He was staring back at himself, yes…but he looked different. His skin was ghostly pale; he looked sick and absolutely terrified. His face was gaunt, and his expression was worn over with sorrow and fear. And as he stared, the reflection's lips began to move rapidly, panic sharpening its features, as if it was screaming out for something. Whatever it was saying though, it was like a TV that was on mute. He could read the expression, and he could see the horror that lived inside of it. But not a single peep was heard. Hiro turned and looked down at himself, but still only saw Abigail. Yet his real reflection was still screeching inaudibly, resorting to beating against the glass with desperately-clenched fists.

Hiro felt Hikaru grab at his hand. "Abigail?" he asked. "Abigail, what's wrong?"

He was freezing. He was _so_ cold. He couldn't _breathe_.

The reflection was gaping in a mute scream. It was scrabbling and frantic as it slammed against the barrier separating it and Hiro. And before Hiro could try and do anything more, the reflection suddenly burst out of the glass. It reached out to Hiro, grasping at his shoulders with an icy grip and pulling hard. Hiro was ripped forward, Hikaru's grip on his wrist disappearing completely as he was forcibly dragged off of his feet. For a heart-stopping moment, he thought that he would smash into the mirror, and glass would rain everywhere, stabbing and cutting through his skin.

But that wasn't what happened at all.

As soon as Hiro was pulled forward, his eyes snapped open wide. A gasp scraped out against his throat, harsh and biting. The first thing he was aware of was that it was absolutely _freezing_. His body was shaking, and his teeth were clenched tight even before he woke up. Shakily, he was ravaged by hyperventilation, his lungs spasming underneath the weight that the cold was forcing onto him. His mind was scrambled and confused, and it took a few spluttering seconds before he could gather anything other than his panic.

He was in a bath. He was limp to the side, his cheek pressed flush against the marble of the tub. Once he woke up, he gagged and struggled, finding that with the way was he was siting, the icy water was up at his throat. He tried to thrash out, but the movements that he _wanted_ to do, and the movements that he _did_ do didn't line up. His movements were just inept and weak; at his forced immobility, he let out a pathetic whine, his forehead creasing over in a million different emotions.

His arm and leg, which had been on fire ever since the knife had been pressed down into his skin, were numbed. The pain was duller than it had ever been, and even though the irritation was still present, it was much more bearable. As the realization connected, Hiro became aware of the next thing. There was a pressure on him; hands were keeping him in place— they were keeping him from falling over or slipping down underneath the water. The adrenaline and the shock that the water had given him allowed him to be the most aware he had been ever since he'd sliced the knife through his skin.

"Keep still." There was a low growl, and Hiro recognized the voice instantly, and it did not help the weak boy's mounting anxiety. Hiro's hyperventilation only worsened tenfold, his lungs straining to gulp down a sufficient intake of air; he felt as if the freezing water was draining all of his body heat from him. His teeth began to chatter, and his muscles twitched involuntarily, in the effort to create some kind of warmth through friction.

Callaghan grabbed at Hiro's wrist, holding it around the wound carefully as he used his other hand to draw a bar of soap over his arm, which was still blistered over and reddened. Immediately, Hiro tensed and gagged, trying to wrench away from the touch as the bar dragged over his wound. "Stop," Callaghan ordered, his voice short and nearly wiped of emotion. He continued to try and clean out the wound, being wary, but knowing that he couldn't withhold effort towards what might make him better. "Don't move. Let me work."

Hiro whimpered, grimacing as his lower lip began to tremble violently. But he obeyed, going limp and sagging to the side like a rag doll. Callaghan's eyes flashed with the motion, but he did not say anything for a moment. He just continued to keep Hiro firmly in the freezing water, running the soap up and down his arm and ignoring the way that the boy gasped and choked with every other breath. For a while, it was silent. He kept Hiro still, hoping that the freezing water would lessen the boy's pain and fever. He moved, starting to try and clean the wound in the boy's leg. He wasn't sure how effective this would be, but he was anxious to at least try.

But Hiro began to whine tiredly again, fighting against the sickness and the nausea that was dragging at him as he tried to thrash free a second time. He tried to mumble something out, but he couldn't really decide what he wanted to say anyway. He started to pick himself up off from leaning against the side of the tub, the simple motion coming across to be as impossible as it was to lift up a million pounds over his head. "Stop…" Hiro whined, his voice tiny and weakened. "Stop it…don't…" He didn't finish. He just trailed off, flinching deeply into himself.

"I have to," Callaghan said, his voice just as rigid and stern. He disregarded Hiro's weak attempts. He just kept his hold on him, keeping him rooted while he worked on his leg. It wasn't as concerning of an injury as his arm was, but he could not let it go untreated. Who knew whether or not the wounds were already infected? He couldn't chance just letting more and more risk pile up. It was better to be safe rather than sorry. Muttering, Callaghan repeated what he had been saying ever since Hiro had stabbed through himself. "If you hadn't done this, we wouldn't be in this situation, now _would_ we?"

Hiro didn't react to the blame. He just continued to fuss and mewl out in high spurts, as if he hadn't even heard the other in the first place. He tried to twist and fumble away, struggling to get out from underneath Robert's touch, which seemed to burn him just as much as the knife had. He couldn't focus on a lot, but he could focus enough on that small detail. He wanted to get _out_. He was freezing, he was in pain, and now he was being subjected to _this_. He felt small and naked and helpless. He wanted _out_.

"Hiro, stop moving," Callaghan snapped lowly. "You're going to hurt yourself more."

"Please…" Hiro rasped, inwardly fighting in between absolute panic and absolute exhaustion. He wanted nothing more than to lash out or even scream at the very least. But he couldn't get his body to function the way that he wanted it to. He could hardly whisper as it was— screaming out was something impossible. His head spinning, he tried to writhe out of his grip again. He couldn't, and the fact was clearly established, but he tried regardless. He had to try…no matter how much it hurt…no matter how much he couldn't move…no matter how much he couldn't breathe…

Right?

"Hiro." Callaghan's voice was growing harder now, and sterner. "Hiro, stop it."

"I want to go home," Hiro sobbed lowly, feeling his eyes burn over and begin to prick. He floundered, groping out groggily with his bad arm for the edge of the tub. But he came up with nothing but air. He felt like he was going to throw up again. He couldn't remember the last time he wasn't vomiting, and as his bleary alarm stacked further and further on top of him, he felt that same rush of heat and sickness. His breathing was already haywire, and it only got worse. His voice barely a desperate mumble, he struggled out his delirious pleas: "Aunt Cass…Aunt Cass…Aunt Cass please…please don't let him…"

"Hiro." Callaghan put the soap to the side, turning so that he could grab hold of the boy's chin. He pulled Hiro's head off of the side of the tub, forcing the child to turn up towards him. "Look at me, Hiro," he instructed, his voice still cold and hard. It took Hiro a moment to collect himself enough to do as he was asked. It seemed like thoughts had to be double-checked and triple-checked before actions could actually come to be from them. His frightened mumblings faded into incoherent wheezes. Callaghan's grip on his chin increased impatiently, and so Hiro reluctantly pulled open his eyes halfway.

His vision was blurred and warped again. His glasses were gone.

But at the moment he couldn't care less about such a thing. He just stared hollowly forward, unable to make sense of the expression on Robert's face, despite the fact that his wasn't too far from Hiro's own. He thought that he saw Callaghan raise his eyebrows in a pointed way. When the man spoke, Hiro could not hold back a frightened flinch. "Listen to me, Hiro," he said, accentuating each and every word clearly. "I am _not_ going to play this game anymore. Do you understand me?"

Hiro cringed, another sob bursting from his chest.

Robert held only tighter to the child at his lack of response. "Hiro. Answer me."

His voice was completely wiped of emotion.

Hiro swallowed hard. His teeth were chattering violently, and it made being understood vocally much more difficult than normal. But he managed it as best he could anyway, finding that he didn't really have much of a choice. "N-No, I-I-I-" He flinched deeply, his lips quivering as if he was going to burst into tears. And he was certainly close to it, in reality. "I-I wasn't— I just—" Every time he tried to get something out, it would backfire on him. His mind would splutter short and come at a loss, completely blank. The fact that he couldn't get anything out was enough to stab fear straight through his chest. And it really didn't help to staunch his rising fear and bemusement.

Why couldn't his body _listen_ to him? Why did he feel as awful as he did?

"Listen," Callaghan repeated, his words dull and lackluster. This was the tone of his voice now— ever since Hiro had injured himself with the knife. He had resigned himself to this, and it was how he was going to play it out, despite anything else that he might feel on the inside. So he took in a small breath and went on, his voice emotionless. "You've behaved terribly, ever since you first came here." He turned and picked up the soap again, ignoring Hiro's muffled wail as he just went back to work.

"You had that one moment— that one instance where it seemed as though you might be coming around," he said, recalling the absolute happiness he had felt when he had heard Hiro call him 'Dad.' His expression flashed over in sorrow for the briefest of seconds, but he just shook his head and forced it down. Instead, he just huffed and moved on with a thinner sort of voice. "That was so long ago, though. Ever since then, you haven't been good at all."

Hiro didn't react anymore. He'd slouched back to the side again, his expression hollow as he listened. The only noise that came from his was the occasional hitch in his breath, accompanied with a whimper or a soft whine. His expression was broken down, yet he resigned himself to remain still. Giving up was easier than pushing himself, after all. That was what he was starting to learn through all of this. Yet mostly the thought was derived from the idea that he was just so tired. Despite the disgust and the fear that was itching underneath his skin, and the pain that was clenched around his arm and his leg, he was inches away from falling unconscious again.

Callaghan went on in a low mutter. "I cannot keep forgiving you for your mistakes. What kind of father would I be to let you keep making the same mistake over and over and _over_ again?" he demanded. Predictably, Hiro didn't reply. But Callaghan hadn't expected him to. "You cannot continue to jeopardize this. I refuse to let you."

Hiro closed his eyes, exhaling a slow sigh that shook and shivered just as much as he was. His skin was paling over, his lips starting to fade into a pale blue. The freezing water was doing its job at least— rather than the boy burning up and being ravaged in heat, he was the exact opposite. He wouldn't be able to stay much longer in the water, for risk of getting _too_ cold. Blackness was starting to play at the edge of his blurry vision. He felt his senses starting to leak away from him bit by bit. Yet weakly, he struggled to speak through his trembling. "I…want…to…go home. I…want…home," he cried pathetically. Tears leaked down his cheeks. The only reason he was not sobbing uncontrollably was because he was just so _tired_.

" _You_ are _home!_ " Callaghan suddenly screeched. Hiro went stiff at the yell, his eyes widening just a little bit, both from his fear, and from the fact that Robert's hold on him suddenly tightened tenfold. His fingernails dug into the boy's shoulder harshly, and he turned Hiro so that he could look at the child square in the face. Hiro's expression crumbled weakly at first, but the surprise from the sudden change wore off quickly, and the numbness was slowly coming back over him. His features drooped into relaxation against his will.

But Callaghan continued to hold him tightly, looking at the boy with a polar gaze of something akin to desperation. He repeated his words harshly, struggling to do that one thing that he had been trying to do since the start of all this: get it through Hiro's head. " _You_ are _home_!" he repeated in a strained yell. Hiro's head began to droop forward, the child losing his fight against the sleep that was coming back over him. It was weird— to hear his own heartbeat so loud and so fast in his head, and yet be _so_ tired at the same time. " _You are home, and_ this _is where you belong!"_ Robert stressed. "And I have to make you realize this!I _have_ to! I have no other choice but to do this!"

Hiro gave out a weak choke. But it was all he could do.

Callaghan shook him quickly, as if he was struggling to get some sort of reaction from him. But the boy was limp and ragged. He just sagged forward, unable to stay awake and aware. Callaghan pressed on, his eyes blazing. "Hiro, you are _making_ me do this!" he stressed. "I cannot let you keep making these mistakes! Can you hear me!? I'm doing this because it's best for you!" Still, nothing. Hiro might as well have been comatose. Robert growled and pressed on: "This is what I have to do to make you understand. You've _made_ me do this. You've _pushed_ me too _far_. Don't you realize this!?"

But Hiro didn't react. The blackness that had been ringing his vision took the initiative and finally slammed over him completely. His senses were stripped away. The pain up and down his leg and arm vanished, as did the sting from the freezing water.

All he felt was absolutely nothing.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Callaghan finished cleaning Hiro, deciding that he might as well just give him a full-body cleanse. He washed his hair too, checking the wound on the back of his head in the process. He dried him off and put him in some clean clothes. He wrapped up Hiro's arm and his leg in fresh bandages, after applying even more medicine on the slices. Then he gathered him up close to his chest and went back down to the basement. Nozomi was shut up in the kitchen bathroom again, and he could hear her barking and snuffling from the side of the house as he walked along. He ignored it completely, though.

He just turned and made down the stairs, holding Hiro close to him and concentrating as much as he could on the feel of the child bundled close to him. As he took each step by slow step, he pushed his nose down into Hiro's hair, so similar to Abigail's. Hiro didn't react at all to the touches; he was oblivious to everything, but at least his temperature wasn't nearly as high. Callaghan looked down at the boy's relaxed face. At the black glasses he wore, and the way his bangs fell down in front of his eyes.

He looked so much like her.

And after this ended, Callaghan was certain that Hiro would act like her as well.

He got downstairs and turned, going back over to the computer room. He put Hiro down lightly, the boy mumbling unconsciously as the grip around him vanished. Callaghan turned and fetched the duct tape that was off to the side. He grabbed Hiro's wrists and pressed them tightly together, stretching off a strand of the tape and making sure they were secure and tight. He did the same to his ankles, and then put a strip over his mouth. Then another around Hiro's waist, carefully maneuvering the wound on his right arm so that he could keep Hiro's hands from his mouth at the same time.

Then he stepped back, surveying Hiro for a few long minutes. The man was completely silent, keeping his face expressionless as he just stared. Hiro stirred ever so slightly, mumbling out something incoherent. Callaghan's eyes flashed, and he drew a little bit more into himself.

He started to turn for the stairs, but something refused to allow him. He paused for a long moment, turning and looking at Hiro, who was nothing more than a listless heap on the floor. After considering, Robert turned and went back. Robert crouched down low, bending down and planting a tender kiss on the unconscious child's forehead.

There seemed to be an air of regret in the room. For what he was now forced to do.

But he tore himself away quickly, his expression clouding over again.

He turned and went up the steps, closing the door and leaving the basement in darkness.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro woke up disoriented and confused. He realized he was alone, and his heartbeat picked up immediately, thudding against his chest. He started to try and shift, but the weights of exhaustion were already keeping him still. However, he realized soon enough that it didn't even matter. He looked down at himself, forcing himself to focus in order to see the duct tape that was locked around his wrists and ankles. He couldn't even bring his hands up to his face— they were strapped down to his sides, instead. It prevented him from being able to take the tape off his mouth. Not that he really would have been able to in the first place, probably.

His feet and his hands ached from the applied pressure. He whined softly and tried to tug against the restraints. But no. He was too weak. He couldn't even peel the tape apart.

The child closed his eyes tightly, his body wracked in a piteous sob. He attempted to move or even wriggle, but his body was as heavy as a rock. His mind was foggy and warped; he felt like he'd just stepped off a spinning, high-speed rollercoaster, and trying to move just made it all even worse. Hiro tried to turn and see where the stairs were— where Callaghan was. He…he was here…right? Where else would he be? But the place was empty. It was completely dark. Through the dim lighting, Hiro couldn't even see the staircase.

He sniffed hard, feeling hot tears leak down the sides of his face. He gave up trying, his body going lax as his head drooped to the side. Still freezing from the bath, a shiver lanced down his spine painfully every so often. The boy recalled dimly how he used to curl up underneath the blankets at home, feeling safe and sound and like nothing could go wrong in the entire world. But now he didn't have any of that. He was alone in the basement of a man he could only wished he could label as a stranger. The floor was hard, and he was so sick, and he just wanted to scream. And he could have. But he knew that the effort would just be wasted, thanks to the gag of tape.

He felt awful. He wanted medicine. He wanted blackness.

He would go so far as to say that he would want _death_ over this.

He wasn't prepared for the thought and, sluggishly, he broke down into another fit of sobs and crying. His hopelessness was eating at him from the inside out. His arm was burning, and his leg felt like it was still being stabbed, over and over again. He would have screamed, but he knew that it was pointless. Just like everything was. He was stuck. He was stuck, he was stuck. What was he going to do…? He needed relief. He needed _something._

So he waited, struggling to stay awake as long as he could. Weariness dragged at him, and his nausea piled up the longer he forced himself to be aware. But he waited for Callaghan to come back downstairs. Hiro would plead and cry and beg for anything to lessen his pain and his suffering. He would take whatever the man was willing to give him.

The room got darker and darker.

Minutes stretched into hours.

Callaghan didn't come down.

Hiro was all alone.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"And then so if you'll read pages 123 to 145 tonight, I think you'll find that our upcoming quiz will be a breeze. Which should set you up well for success for this new school year. But I will say that—" Callaghan broke off, irritation swarming his gaze as the overhead speakers began to emit a charming little song. He'd heard it a million times over; it was the song that was picked and played every half hour. That was the fourth one since class had started— which meant that class was now officially over.

He sighed, but relented. His students were already up and packing; they wouldn't listen to anything more he would say anyway. "Alright, then," he said in a little huff. "Thank you all for your first week back in school. I trust that this year will be even better than your last. I'm looking at a few of you in the back," he added with a look towards those that he knew had scored low in the past. "Please do not force me to drag good test scores of you all. There's only so much I can do as a person."

One of the girls sitting up front hopped up and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder. She smiled brightly at the teacher, nearly from ear to the other. "Goodbye, Professor Callaghan!" she chirped. "I hope you have a good weekend! I'll you Monday!"

He offered her a small smile. "See you, Akemi," he returned. "Have a good weekend."

She grinned and skittered off. The rest of the class followed close behind. Callaghan sighed and started to go back to his desk, finding that in the first week of class, he was more than a bit disheveled and disorganized. He was out of practice in terms of keeping himself together, it seemed. He'd have to get back into the swing of things. But as he went back to his desk, something else caught his attention. Something more important than shuffling together papers and lesson plans.

He perked and titled his head to the side. "Mister Hamada?" he asked.

Tadashi jerked to attention immediately at the call. Before then, he'd been sitting blandly at his desk, apparently completely oblivious to the fact that class was over. He'd been staring off into space, his head leaning against his hand in a despondent manner. Yet when he was roused by his name, he jumped nearly out of his skin. He blinked rapidly, his eyes wide as he turned and looked around. There was an audible gasp as he realized that the other chairs around him were vacant.

"Are you alright, Mister Hamada?" Callaghan asked, turning to at him curiously. "Class ended about a minute ago."

The student reached back and rubbed his neck quickly. "O-Oh," he rasped, standing up quickly. He gathered his bag together, looking a little alarmed at his mental lapse. "I-I'm so sorry, Professor Callaghan. I-I just wasn't…" He trailed off for a second before clearing his throat and shaking his head. "I'm sorry. It's been…right, yeah— I'll go. Sorry for keeping you."

He looked like he was fit to sprint out of the room. But Callaghan was slightly unnerved by the way the boy was holding himself. So he cleared his throat, leaning back against his desk as he spoke. "Are you alright, Mister Hamada?" he asked, carefully gauging the boy as he stopped a bit reluctantly. Did he…he couldn't possibly…unless? "Any update on Hiro, Tadashi?" he prodded, carefully and gently at the same time. At the mention of his little brother, Tadashi went stiff. And Callaghan had to make a conscious effort to remain relaxed and careless. "Any…news?"

Tadashi didn't move for about ten whole seconds. He just stared at his teacher. At first he wondered whether or not the boy understood him in the first place. But then Tadashi reacted, his expression breaking and shattering. He ducked his head to try and hide it, but he forced out the words anyway. "No," he all but gagged out. Callaghan nodded slowly, keeping the relief from his face. He just surveyed the other carefully, keeping silent. And after a pause to recollect himself, Tadashi sniffed. "Aunt Cass thinks he's dead," he blurted out suddenly.

Callaghan's eyebrows rose. There a stretch of silence before: "And…do you agree?"

" _No_!" Tadashi snapped, the reply instant and almost acidic. But no sooner did the word slip his mouth did he shake his head quickly. "…Yes?" He groaned, reaching up and pressing the heels of his hands down against his eyes. "I don't know. I don't know anymore. I really don't, and I wish I did, and I just want to scream!" His arms flopped back down to his sides, and he shook his head again, looking thoroughly sickened. He took in a few calming breaths. Callaghan just stared silently, watching him. After a while Tadashi went on in a regretful mumble. "She said it last night. She didn't mean it. Well— she said that she didn't right after. She was just angry. And upset…she didn't realize what she was saying."

Callaghan nodded, swallowing the information. "And…you don't know whether or not to agree with her?"

Tadashi sighed. "I don't think I know about anything anymore," he whispered. The boy took to staring off to the side, and Callaghan looked at his expression of despondency and deep sorrow. He looked like a shadow of his former self— of the boy that had started his first semester last school year. It was a year's difference now, nearly. It was less than a month, and it would be on entire year. As if the same thought went through Tadashi's head, as the teenager inhaled sharply and gripped his book bag a little bit tighter. "I don't know what to do," he repeated hollowly.

Callaghan pursed his lips, but did not reply. The classroom was swallowed in silence.

Tadashi turned, looking at the teacher remorsefully. His next words came out soft. "How did you do it?" he asked.

Callaghan stiffened on the inside. But on the outside, he remained completely calm. "'Did it?'" he repeated. "How did I do what?"

"How did you handle losing your daughter? Someone…someone close to you?" Tadashi's voice broke on the question.

This, Callaghan did stiffen just slightly at. The two stood apart from one another, just staring. Something seemed to overcome Tadashi's expression as he realized himself and the error of his ways. Callaghan never liked to talk about his daughter. The only reason anybody knew about her was because this was a college, and young people loved nothing more than to gossip and talk amongst themselves. He should have known that such a question was more than inappropriate, and probably would not even be rewarded an answer. He quickly started to open his mouth and craft an apology on his tongue. Mentally, he scolded himself for being so thoughtless.

But to his utter shock, Callaghan started to speak before he could. "It was hard, at first," Professor Callaghan said, looking at Tadashi with the smallest hint of a smile on his face. The teenager stilled, obviously listening attentively and hanging on to every word. "I couldn't accept that she was gone— I didn't want to. But…at some point you do have to realize that things happen for a reason." Tadashi's face fell a little bit. Callaghan pushed on. "There's nothing in this world that happens just because. And you have to take this in your stride and understand it. It's a part of life— that's the way it works. The sooner you realize that, the clearer everything will get."

"That's just the thing, though," Tadashi rasped softly. "There was no reason for Hiro to leave. To disappear. I checked and rechecked it— there's no reason for him to have gone." He grew upset, looking hard at Callaghan and waiting for his reply. When the teacher only looked at him expectantly, Tadashi went on to press: "There's got to be something else." He might as well have been begging. "There's got to be anything else. Don't you have something like that? Something you could tell me that would make me feel better? That would let me know he's okay?"

Callaghan looked at him steadily. "You asked what I did with Abigail," he pointed out gently. "And I told you: I accepted her being gone. I accepted that she wasn't coming back."

Tadashi muttered a thick curse underneath his breath. He turned, pressing a hand to his forehead as he closed his eyes. His mouth drew into a tight line, and his face turned a brighter color of red, as if he was holding something back. Callaghan pushed off of his desk, walking over slowly as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Tadashi turned, dropping his hand and looking at his teacher— at the person he respected most in this entire world. His next question came out in the smallest of whispers, as if he was afraid to say it too loudly, so someone might hear.

"Do _you_ think he's dead?" he asked weakly.

Callaghan blinked, searching Tadashi's face. He was silent for a long moment, deciding his answer.

The boy was tense, waiting rigidly for his response.

But when the answer did come, it was not what he had been hoping for.

It took every ounce of strength in Tadashi's body not to scream and completely break down when Callaghan looked levelly at him and replied with an unwavering: "Yes. I do."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He tried to keep track of how much time passed. But he stopped counting after six days. Part of him asserted that he had stopped counting just because he could not be sure that he was even accurate. When he wasn't sleeping or unconscious, he was so groggy that it was hard to tell what was real and what wasn't. Yet at the same time, the other part of him knew that he had stopped counting just because the mere thought of the growing number was making him sick. He just wanted to curl up from everything and sink underneath the floor.

The most relief came to him when he was unconscious. At least then, the pain was alleviated. His head would stop pounding, and his stomach would stop eating itself from the inside. The nausea he felt would stop short, and his muscles could unclench and unwind from the rigidity that was inspired from his agony. When he woke up, all of those things just came back to him in a rush. His breathing would change from slow and relaxed, to punctured and weak. He would twitch in pain and look desperately over at the staircase for Callaghan.

He never came.

Six days, and Hiro was left downstairs, completely alone. He was left to suffer— and suffer in more than just one way. When he was awake and aware, it was about the worst thing that he had ever experienced. He would rather be dragged by his the back of his hair through shards of glass than stay like this. His stomach was completely empty, and because of that his head was spinning even more than it already was. His muscles were taut and locked together, as if they were trying to hold back all the pain that was still burning through his veins.

His arm and his leg were stinging and aching horribly. Hiro wanted nothing more than to jerk free of his duct tape bonds, and rip off the gauze that was scratching at his wounds. He wanted to drag his nails down the itching injury so much that he was fit to scream. But he couldn't do any of that. He couldn't stop his stomach from yawning in hunger and he couldn't stop his head from pounding and he couldn't stop his burns from twitching excruciatingly. He wanted to screech and vomit and writhe.

Despite his thoughts, though, Hiro didn't have enough energy to do anything at all.

He could just lay there, wallowing and suffering as he tried to just focus on breathing in and out.

In his groggy and mixed mind, he thought he could see Tadashi in the dark, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the room. Hiro stared fuzzily at him, wishing that he could call out or say something to him. But the tape was over his mouth. Looking at his brother, whose eyebrows were raised expectantly where he sat, Hiro's chest constricted as tears wormed down his face. Tadashi sighed and propped his head up carelessly on his hand. He spoke up, his voice tinged with slight irritation. _"I thought we established here that you have no idea what you're doing,"_ Tadashi huffed. _"And then you go and do something as stupid at this. You really_ are _a genius, aren't you? Now look at you— you're dying. Isn't that funny?"_

Hiro closed his eyes, his shoulders shaking as he tried to keep himself from crying.

Tadashi sighed. He leaned back to slouch against the steps. _"Welp. I_ told _you, didn't I? I tried to tell you how dangerous it was to go out in the city after dark. And what did you say? 'Oh, no, Tadashi! I'm so perfect and_ great _! Nothing bad will_ ever _happen to me!'"_ His voice rose in octaves to mimic Hiro's cruelly. The younger fought the urge to flinch back from the sting. _"Robert was_ completely _right. I_ did _hate you. I still do— it's just that I can finally be happy with you gone,"_ he sighed. _"If you weren't such a jerk, you would be home right now. But I'm glad you aren't. Aunt Cass and I didn't deserve what you put us through."_ He offered a coy smile. _"Karma sucks, doesn't it?"_

Hiro shook his head slowly. It took painstaking effort, and he had to choke back the wave of sickness that arose because of it. But he tried to focus anyway. He sniffed hard, shaking with pain and sorrow. With his good hand, he tried to reach out. But thanks to the fact that his arms were pinned down at his sides, all he could do was splay his fingers out towards Tadashi pitifully. _Don't do this,_ he thought desperately. _Don't do this, please. I need you. Please help me. I'm all alone._

Tadashi laughed. _"You deserve to be alone. It's only fair,"_ he replied. Then he rolled his eyes, scoffing underneath his breath. _"But you're not even alone. You've got Robert, you idiot."_ Hiro sobbed at this, but Tadashi ignored it. _"He's still taking care of you. Don't you know anything? I thought you were supposed to be the 'smart one.' Or is that just when you're trying to look good?"_ He went on without waiting for a reply. _"You die without water after three days, stupid. So what does that tell you? It means that Robert's still coming down here. It's just when you're sleeping. Maybe sleep less, Einstein. You might know something for once."_

Hiro cringed, sniffing shakily again. He tried to move, but he was stopped short when his arm was clenched tight in pain instead. He bit down on his cheek, trying to concentrate on that irritation instead. It still hurt, but it hurt much less than the other one did. _I can't stop,_ he thought weakly. _I can't stop sleeping. I'm so tired. I'm so tired, Tadashi, please help me._ Tadashi watched him with a blank stare, clearly unimpressed.

Hiro felt tears well up in his eyes as he thought about when he was younger, and when he would crawl up into Tadashi's bed whenever he had a nightmare or whenever he was upset. Tadashi would never complain. He would just sigh and smile good-naturedly, shuffling over on the bed to make room for his younger brother. Anything and everything bothering Hiro would immediately disappear into nothing when he curled up close to his brother, burying away his head. He'd stopped doing that when he was seven or eight. But now, that was the only thing in the world he wanted. To be comforted.

 _Help me,_ he pleaded inwardly, begging by this point. _I hurt so much,_ please _just help me. I miss you. I_ love _you. I'm sorry. I just want you back. I want Aunt Cass back. I promise I'll be better. I promise I won't be anything like I used to. I know I was awful, but I promise I won't be anymore. Please…please just hold me. Please. I miss you. I just_ miss _you._ All he wanted was comfort. The thought of Tadashi's arms around him was like a saving grace.

But his older brother didn't change at all. If anything, he just grew more irritable. _"You're so pathetic,"_ he growled, reaching up to rub at his forehead as if to say 'I cannot believe I have to deal with this.' _"Stop begging. It's bad enough you're like this, don't make it even worse. I can't even look at you._ He turned and started to get up. He turned his back, and Hiro began to panic groggily as he realized that his older brother was leaving him. A frightened noise leaked through the tape over his mouth, but Tadashi ignored it. _"I'm done with you,"_ the elder growled. _"You're so ungrateful. You should have realized what you had. It's too late now."_

 _No! No, no! Tadashi, please don't leave me!_ Hiro went into a spasm, trying to call out desperately. But the tape kept him from doing so, and his throat was too dry to make a noise loud enough to express his desolation. _Tadashi, don't! Please don't leave me here! Please! PLEASE!_ But despite the mental pleas, Tadashi disappeared from view. He faded into the darkness of the basement, and Hiro was left completely alone all over again.

He felt like screaming. He felt like banging his head against the ground until there was nothing else but darkness and peace. He was breathing noisily, all but heaving through his nose, as he could not breathe through his gag. He could feel the ground spinning underneath him, and now that he could not distract himself, the pain began to drag him down once more. He scrabbled on the floor, his eyes wide but distant and unfocused.

He was in pain, he was desperate, he was hopeless.

He was going insane.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

She came back home, trying to hide the look of disappointment and confusion that was on her face. At the sound of the closing door, her husband roused, turning away from the stove and looking over at her with an expectant expression. "Let me guess," he mused, refocusing again on the water that was slowly coming to a boil. "You went out there. Again. Walked around. Again. And you came up with nothing. Again." Stacy scowled at the tone of voice he used, looking at if she had a few choice words herself. But her husband shook his head and offered her a small shrug. "I mean…you can keep it up if you want. But I'm telling you, you're wasting your time."

"It's a good thing I didn't ask," she said graciously, turning and starting into the living room.

"Hey, hey, hey, c'mon." She stopped at her husband's call, albeit reluctantly. She stuck her tongue into her cheek, clearly perturbed. But she crossed her arms over her chest and turned all the same, locking her jaw backwards. Tony looked tiredly at her, giving a small shake of the head at her irritation. But the man's voice was warm when he spoke next. "You know why I realized I liked you so much?" he asked. When Stacy stared at him, her gaze losing its anger, he continued matter-of-factly. "It's because you were running for that whole student council thing. You were so passionate— everyone _hated_ you because you wouldn't shut up. And that's when I realized I loved you. Because you knew exactly what you wanted. And you still aren't planning on stopping. Even now."

Stacy shifted her weight from foot to foot. She still seemed unsure whether or not to be angry.

Tony eyed her with a grin. "It's also why I hate you though, you know that, right?" he teased.

She melted just a little bit. A smile wormed its way onto her features. "Then why don't you divorce me?" she quipped neatly.

He scoffed. He left the stove and walked over to her, folding her into a soft hug. He would much rather have asked her to stay home, and to stop walking down towards where she had fooled herself into thinking that there was a noise. It was compulsive how she went down there, and so far she hadn't heard anything at all. She should realize by now that there was simply nothing to hear. But he had decided that picking fights over it all was stupid. If she wanted to take walks down there, she could take walks down there. It was no skin off his hide. So now he just hugged her, feeling a sense of relief at the fact that she burrowed down into the embrace like she always did. "It's the cost," he sighed dramatically. "Once I save up a bit, I'll order the papers."

She laughed. "Good. It'll be a load off my shoulders."

They stood like that for a few seconds. Tony started to unwind his arms, figuring that the water was ready for the past by this point. But surprisingly he was held in place by his wife, whose fists were tight in his shirt. He blinked, looking down with a quizzical expression. Stacy was holding close to him, looking out the window with a drawn expression.

"What's wrong?" Tony asked, tilting his head.

Her voice came out in a small mumble. "What if it was him?" she asked softly. "That boy? What if he was the one who screamed?"

He sighed wearily, shaking his head. "Stacy, don't do that to yourself," he sighed, rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. "If it was him, the police would have been more concerned. They wouldn't have dropped it as soon as they had. I _told_ you, it was probably just some kids running around. Look— school picked back up again, and we haven't heard anything at all." She hesitated and then nodded, a little uneasily. Tony did the same, though his nod was much more assured. "So don't beat yourself up. Like I said: it was probably nothing. Really. Cheer up; I hate seeing you so upset."

Stacy sighed, her expression wilting just slightly. But then she cleared her throat and gave a small nod. "Alright," she said simply. She pulled back and offered him a tiny grin. "Alright," she repeated, stronger now. "You're right. It probably wasn't him."

Tony seemed satisfied with this. He turned and went back to the dinner.

Stacy watched him go, her grin fading once he turned. She swallowed and looked down at the floor instead, her expression torn. She glanced over out the window, but it was too dark now to see outside. She just felt that same sense of hollowness and confusion that she had when she was out walking.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Eat."

Hiro roused blearily, forcing his eyes to open, however much he did not want them to. Callaghan was crouched beside him, holding a bowl of something in his hands. Hiro didn't move, only staring blankly up at the man. His expression was foggy and confused. He felt like he was wasting away. When the child only looked up limply from the floor, Callaghan cleared his throat and extended his arms, showing the boy what was inside the bowl. It looked mushy and gross. A gray blob that turned Hiro's stomach. "It's oatmeal," Callaghan explain, his voice carefully indifferent despite the state of the boy. "It's filling. So c'mon."

He leaned over and peeled the tape off of Hiro's mouth. The boy whined pitifully once his lips were freed. But Callaghan just scooped out a spoonful of oatmeal, reaching out to offer it to the weak child. "C'mon," he repeated. "You've got to eat now." He spoke as if he was teaching Hiro how to do some math problem— being objective and blank.

Hiro still only mumbled and grimaced, so Callaghan took the initiative. He leaned over and spooned the bite carefully into the boy's mouth. Thankfully enough, Hiro did not try and spit it back, or refuse the offer. In fact, he seemed ravenous for how weak he was. He took the bite and swallowed it down with a grimace. It was slow going— much slower than it would have taken any able-bodied person to eat. But Hiro had to drag the food down his throat and force it to stay in his stomach, rather than come right back up.

The whole thing passed in complete silence. Callaghan's face was wiped of emotion, and he just stared stonily ahead. Hiro, more and more aware after he was finally allowed some food, looked at Callaghan wearily, every crevice of his face heightened with fright and uneasiness. In the very back of it all, though, his gaze was almost expectant. Like he was waiting for something.

Callaghan gave Hiro as much oatmeal as he thought the boy could stomach, going slowly as to not hurt him further. It had been nearly seven days now he'd gone without food. He lost so much weight that his ribs were poking out underneath his shirt. But Callaghan tried not to let himself get distracted over the detail. It was something he could fix later. For now, as strong as he felt in looking at Hiro, he knew that this was all for a purpose. And he knew that it would pay off.

Eventually he decided that Hiro had eaten enough oatmeal. He took the bowl away and offered him water instead, tipping the cup back so that Hiro could drink without moving his head. Some of the water leaked down his face sloppily, but the boy gulped down the liquid eagerly. Callaghan had come down to give Hiro water more frequently, but he was never really aware enough to probably realize it. Callaghan was thankful that he was awake now; it showed that he was still capable, at least.

Once he was through feeding Hiro, Callaghan gathered up everything, organizing it all as he readied himself to go up. After consideration though, he paused. He turned and looked down at Hiro, waiting. Coincidentally enough, Hiro looked right back him, seeming just as expectant somewhere in his murky gaze. They were silent as they just stared at one another. Robert was the one to break the tension. "Are you ready to apologize yet?" Callaghan asked.

Hiro blinked, his eyes starting to glint a little bit brighter with tears. His lower lip began to tremble, and Callaghan thought for the briefest of seconds that things would start to pay off. But after a second, Hiro's pride seemed to outweigh whatever else he might have felt. Shakily, he whimpered: "I don't have anything to be sorry for."

Callaghan jerked backwards, as if he'd been slapped. The hope that had fostered in his chest died on impact, and Hiro's face fell as he seemed to realize that saying such a thing was a mistake. "Wait— I don't…" Hiro tried to amend himself, but the man was already getting up. Slurring his words, Hiro fumbled, trying desperately to fix the situation. "Please, please, I…I hurt, I—" He grimaced and broke off, his body being seized by shakes and concealed sobs. He sniffed, trying not to let the fact show. "I need—"

"You're not ready, yet," Callaghan said, his voice constrained now. Hiro watched in terror as he leaned over for the roll of duct tape again, his expression cold. "I'll come back later. Give you a little bit more _time_ for you to reconsider."

"I— please stop—" Hiro was cut off. Callaghan leaned over and pressed the tape against Hiro's mouth again, effectively sealing him silent. His eyes still rushed over in tears, but Callaghan ignored it. He turned, repeating mentally the fact that the boy was simply not ready yet. Hiro shook and trembled, and he struggled to keep himself together as Callaghan gathered up everything and started to make for the steps. It took a considerable amount of effort to keep himself from screeching after the man as he found himself to be alone once more.

The basement door slammed shut, and Hiro curled painfully into himself, cringing as he picked that safe moment to break down into a fit a sobs and muffled cries.

Callaghan pressed his back against the door, closing his eyes tightly and letting out a heavy sigh that wracked his frame. He reached up and pressed his hands to his forehead, letting out a growl of frustration and withheld anger. It was so _close_. He had been so _close_ — Callaghan could tell. But the moment had been swift and fleeting and it had ended much too soon. Feeling a tidal wave of frustration, Robert muttered a thick curse underneath his breath.

He turned and began to pace, his mind haywire.

He had done this for _Hiro_. He had given him time to realize why his actions were wrong. He had done it so that Hiro would _regret_ his actions. But the boy was just as stubborn— even after seven days. What if this didn't _work_? It _had_ to work. There was no other option. It was either this would work, or Robert would find himself in a situation impossible get out of. His breathing heavier now, Robert continued to walk back and forth, resembling an animal that was trapped in a cage.

He didn't want this to work, he _needed_ it to.

He _loved_ Hiro. The last thing that Callaghan would do would be give him up.

But if he just…if he just didn't…

Callaghan let out an angered yell, shaking his head wildly from side to side. His vision went red for a split second, and, too lost in emotions to check himself, he grabbed one of the chairs from the dining room table, whirling around and throwing it down as hard as he possibly could. A resounding thud split the air, as well as crack as one of the legs broke. He looked down with wide eyes at the mess, feeling his heartbeat in his ears like a drum. His face fell a little uncertainly, and he swallowed hard, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

He pressed his hands up to his forehead, sinking down unsteadily to sit on the floor. He leaned against the wall— the same wall that had been smeared with Hiro's blood what seemed like forever ago. He drew his knees up to his chest and pressed his hands against either side of his head. A weary sigh passed his lips. Now that the anger burned itself away and expired, he had nothing left to rage about.

All he could do was wallow in his remorse and disappointment.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

The dinner table was absolutely silent. It had been like that for about ten minutes now. The only sound was the scraping of silverware and the jarring of plates. Tadashi and Aunt Cass were sitting across from each other, the same empty chair making itself known where it was to their sides. There might as well be flashing lights on it. They'd tried to move it before, but they both knew that the effort would be too much. And it would feel too wrong. So they just left it there. Gaping and yawning a cavernous space.

Aunt Cass was looking over at Tadashi, her expression tired and strained.

Tadashi didn't look up from his plate, just staring down numbly as he played with his food.

"I didn't mean it," Aunt Cass blurted out. Tadashi stopped messing with the dinner in front of him. But he didn't look up. His eyes looked red. She shook her head and tried again, her voice tired and worn. "I really didn't mean it," she struggled. She'd said it about fifteen times now. "I really didn't mean it, Tadashi. I was just upset. I should have realized what I said. I'm sorry. I don't…I don't actually think that. About Hiro." It had been days since her outburst. But the fact was trivial. Her eyes were still red from crying.

Tadashi looked up at her. Wearily, he offered her a smile that didn't touch his eyes, which remained dull and lifeless. "I know," he said simply, trying to make himself sound reassuring. He looked down at his food, the smile fading as quickly as it had been dragged into life. He went back to poking and prodding at his vegetables. He hadn't eaten a single thing yet.

Aunt Cass' mouth remained slightly open. Stuttering a bit, she repeated weakly: "I-…I didn't mean it."

"I know," Tadashi mumbled, using the same reply he always did. "I know, Aunt Cass."

Silence. Aunt Cass looked down at her own plate, which was just as untouched. Her expression crumpled. She closed her eyes tightly and swallowed. For a few heartbeats, silence existed once more. Tense and stifling. Before this, silence never made a home at the Hamada house. Now it was a permanent resident. It lived and breathed— far more than its actual inhabitants did. Tadashi stared down, not paying attention to the mess he was making anymore. He just looked right through it.

Silence.

Then, a haggard whisper.

"I didn't mean it, I swear…"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Callaghan waited seven more days. Another week. Again, he went down only to offer Hiro water. Sometimes the boy would be aware enough, sometimes not. When he was, Callaghan searched for a sign that he was breaking. But if there was one, it was quickly covered up by the child. Despite everything, he was sticking to himself. Yet Callaghan held onto the hope that his resolve seemed to grow weaker and weaker. Every time that Callaghan turned away, refusing to speak, Hiro seemed to display more and more signs of regret or worry or panic.

That was what the man told himself.

It was how he comforted himself enough to allow him to sleep at night.

So when he came downstairs after those seven more days with more hot oatmeal, he was expecting the same thing. And at first, it seemed like he would get it. He sat down and peeled the tape painfully off from Hiro's mouth, spoon feeding the boy his meal while he looked him over. His burns were coming along, thanks to the medicine and the bandages that were changed whenever they needed to be. They looked much better than they had, at least. And Hiro didn't have nearly as many fevers. When he did have spikes, it didn't last as long, and it never climbed above 101.5.

Even though Callaghan hadn't spoken to Hiro, he had come down enough to know this much.

Mostly it had been done when the boy was asleep, however.

At least in the physicality of all it all, they seemed to be doing alright.

Callaghan let Hiro drink more water, having to handle the cup since the boy's arms and wrists were still bound down. And once that was through, he started to gather it all back up, like he usually did. Hiro watched him, biting down hard on his lower lip. His eyes glazed over, not for the first time, but Callaghan ignored him pointedly. He just kept his head down, concentrating instead on making sure he had everything. Perhaps he would come down later and change Hiro's bandages— he hadn't done that yet today.

He turned for the tape.

But he was stopped by a small choke. "Please."

Callaghan froze at once, but he did not move. His hand hung in the air, suspended mid-reach.

He said absolutely nothing.

Hiro let out a wavering rasp. "Pease don't…"

Callaghan looked back at him. Hiro seemed to be holding back an ocean of tears, and his lip was trembling violently as he looked up at the other. There seemed to be a plea in his eyes, and Callaghan forced himself to ignore the burst of hope in his chest. He just looked blandly down at Hiro, waiting. After a moment he shook his head, his voice apathetic. "I have to," Callaghan said, noticing the fact that Hiro immediately broke down, his eyes closing tightly as water rushed down his cheeks. "You're still not ready. I told you, Hiro, I'm not going to play this game with you anymore." He sounded like he was scolding Hiro for taking a cookie out of the cookie jar or something.

Hiro sniffed hard, his words barely distinguishable as they came out choked and thick. "Please don't leave me alone," he begged tearfully. "Please…I can't…"

"You're not ready," Callaghan repeated. Though he drew his arm back to himself. "You have to be alone until you are."

Hiro curled up more, ignoring the pain in his back. He sniffed again, his body shaking with his suppressed cries.

Callaghan cleared his throat. "Eight more days," he offered, as if he was being generous. Hiro's eyes snapped open quickly, his pupils blowing out in fear at the number. Callaghan disregarded it. "We'll see how you feel then. Maybe after eight more days, you'll be more inclined to see what you need to fix." He started again for the tape, though his reach was noticeably slower. He watched the child carefully, noticing the fact that his breathing picked up, however weak it had been before. "Until then…"

"I'm ready," Hiro whined, fear stabbing through his heart immediately.

"I don't think so," Callaghan pushed. "You're still fighting. And I just can't—"

" _I'm ready, I'm ready_!" Hiro sobbed, his voice raising up into what was probably supposed to be a yell. But with the lack of water he'd had, it could only pass off as a normal level of volume. Callaghan froze for a second time, watching the boy with a sense of intensity. Hiro shook his head groggily, his shoulders shaking and his breathing uneven. He inhaled sharply, the air rasping painfully against his throat. His voice was broken and defeated when it came out, and it was riddled with severe desperation. "I don't want to be alone," Hiro wept, heaving with the effort. "I don't want to be alone, please don't let me be alone, please…"

Callaghan turned towards him. He was still wary, and so his voice remained blank when he replied. "You have to behave." Hiro looked sickened and fit to throw up, but he nodded quickly, the movement rattling his brain. Still, Robert pressed: "I cannot have you acting out again. You have to understand. If you act out again, you are coming back down here and I will leave you for even longer. Right? This is your punishment. And it will be your punishment from here on out." Hiro nodded rapidly, his face bright red as he struggled to hold back his wails. "If you are not perfect…you're coming back down. And I won't be as forgiving next time."

Hiro kept nodding wildly. He looked half-crazed by this point.

Callaghan was still waiting for the final straw. A moment of silence passed in which only the sound of Hiro's sobs could be heard. Leaning a little closer, Robert pressed almost gently: "What do you have to say for yourself, then, Hiro?"

This did it.

The boy broke apart at whatever seams were still managing to hold him together. He collapsed into a fit of sobs and chokes, outright bawling. He was pitched forward from it, and the small amount of pride he had struggled to maintain was now out the window. His words were slurred, and harsh hiccups broke his voice off in spots. "I'm sorry!" he sniveled, his voice hoarse. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm _so sorry_!" He inhaled sharply and shook his head again, only making his pain worse but unable to stop. "I shouldn't have— I was so stupid, and— and— and—" He couldn't even finish. He just fell into a pit of more tears and more wails.

He was completely ruined.

Callaghan's façade immediately broke.

It worked.

His expression became tender, and he immediately forgot the duct tape, or the dishes around them. Instead he reached over, bundling Hiro up into his arms and pulling him towards his chest. He was careful not to jar the boy's injuries in the process. At the contact, Hiro's crying only increased in intensity. Weeks, and he'd gone with only himself for company. The only other presence for him was mental admonishing that never seemed to end. The physical touch of arms wrapping around his too-skinny frame provided him with so much unexpected relief that it almost felt like he had been punched square in the gut.

He didn't even care who the arms belonged to. Memories swamped him of Aunt Cass pulling him in for a 'last hug.' Of Tadashi sweeping him up off the floor and bringing him into a crushing embrace that had driven all the wind from him. Hiro was reduced to a puddle of incoherent sobs, and the boy found himself subconsciously turning, burying his head down into Callaghan's chest. Despite the bonds that were keeping his hands together, he clung tightly to Robert's shirt, pulling even closer as if to reassure him that he _wasn't_ the only thing on the planet, and there existed more than just shadows and darkness.

Callaghan was shocked. But his eyes were lit up like two twin stars— the lottery-ticket grin that used to have. Quickly, he enveloped Hiro tightly, beginning to rock him like he was a small toddler. "Shhh…it's alright now," he cooed, leaning down and planting a kiss on top of the boy's hair. Hiro shivered, but clung just as tight, if not tighter. "It's alright. It'll be just fine from now on. You just had to realize. And I just had to show you. But it's okay now. It worked…everything's okay..." Robert whispered soothingly, as if it was some kind of a lullaby.

Hiro was shaking from head to toe. He couldn't stop crying; the front of Callaghan's shirt was soon completely wet with tears. But Robert didn't mind. The man just rubbed the child's back gently, continuing to shush him with that same brilliant smile splayed across his face. "Shhh…everything's good now. It'll all be fine. Don't you worry." Hiro gasped and shuddered, and Callaghan nodded slowly. "I know. You messed up. But now you know better. It's alright. You messed up. You just messed up…we all do sometimes. As long as it won't happen again. But now you know what will happen if it does…"

Hiro still clung to Callaghan as if his life depended on it.

Across the man's face was a look of complete elation.

The two of them sat in the dark of the basement. Callaghan continued to try and soothe Hiro as best he could, shushing him and keeping his voice light as he basked in the absolute joy of having the boy hold so tightly to him. Hiro continued to sob, letting loose the fear and the sorrow and the mental strain he had suffered through and had thought that he could endure. It had all piled up on top of him, and now the dam had broken. He was a mess. If he was a puzzle, all the pieces had been ripped apart and mixed up to make him suddenly indecipherable.

He couldn't bring himself to let go of Callaghan.

He couldn't bring himself to stop shaking.

He couldn't bring himself to calm down.

He couldn't even bring himself to stop his raspy mutterings, which slipped numbly off his tongue.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: This thing. Is twenty pages. My goodness. I need sleep.

It's a rule of thumb for me I think that the longer my chapters are, the more I like…hate them? I don't know why. Longer ones just don't sit well with me— I think maybe because I've just been working on them for too long? That might be it. Or it might be because I have an AP Literature quiz tomorrow and it's 11:10 p.m. and I still have to study. Or something like that.

But yeah! I edited the first half of the chapter, but not the second half. If there are any glaring typos, as always I'll be willing to fix them! There were a few eyebrows raised at last chapter, so I tried to do this one even _more_ justice! I hope I did that (she says hopefully, but tiredly and awkwardly at the same time)!

Y'all! I'm _so_ pumped to write next chapter! You've got _no_ idea! It'll mainly center around Tadashi, and boy I'm gonna do my best to make it amazing. We're winding down now— for those of you keeping score at home, I don't want to give a number but we're nearing the turning point of the story. I hope you're as excited for it as I am!

I shall see you in ten reviews! I made this extra long because we hit a whopping 23 last chapter and I love you guys and if we reach 200 reviews with this chapter I will throw myself down the stairs. I get so pumped for this story now, so thank you! I remember in the beginning it was rough— now this story is one of my favorites! So thank you for reading! I hope you're as excited as for what's to come as I am! ;)


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Ahhh, I've got too many guests bringing up points I can't reply to as well since I can't PM them! I might as well just address them here, so I apologize if this note gets a bit long. Everyone is really, really anxious for Hiro to get out, and I understand your impatience perfectly. But I hope you'll trust me enough to know that I wouldn't just stoop so low as to just hurt characters for no reason at all, and just sit on that just because I think it's cool. Everything has a purpose. I think after this chapter, it'll be clearer to everyone, or at least I hope. But I began this story with a specific plan in mind, and I am sticking to it carefully.

I think you'll just have to trust that I know what I'm doing. I think part of the issue is the wait in between chapters that makes it all seem longer and more dragged out too. I swear up and down, I'm struggling to keep up with it pretty attentively. Typing out more than 14 pages a week is _really_ hard for me to do, especially with my schedule. If I could update faster, and connect things faster, and get to the part where things begin to resolve, I would in a heartbeat.

Which is another (and hopefully last) point. This story isn't _nearly_ over. It _will not_ end once the situation with Callaghan comes to the resolution I have in mind. I've got _so_ much planned, and you just can't see what I've got in store. I'm not just throwing my weight around with this whole thing. The point of this story is not to hurt the people in it. I truly do have a lot planned and connected. But I just _can't_ get there too fast, you've got to understand. Even now, I've shaved off a few plot points I had _just_ so I can get a little closer to chapters like this one.

So just sit tight. I really am working as hard as I possibly can to make this all fit together, trust me.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

There was a dull roar of noise that had faded into the background about fifteen minutes ago. Music and laughter and conversation meshed together sloppily, to clash with the loud television that was playing in the corner. At first, the clamor was irritating and nothing but a triviality that invoked a sense of anger and wretched sorrow inside of Tadashi. But that had been before he had sat down and ordered himself a drink. And then another one, and by the third, he had forgotten the ruckus around him altogether. In fact, after his third, he had been hoping to be able to forget quite a lot more than just the noise around him.

He'd hoped to forget everything.

But instead he found himself in the exact opposite situation.

Sitting on top of a rickety stool, in some random bar he didn't care enough to remember the name of, Tadashi's shoulders were hunched as he stared dully down at the counter in front of him. Everyone else in the bar seemed to be having the time of their lives. People were playing pool, catching up with old buddies, toasting some celebration, and a bunch of other things that Tadashi wasn't keen on keeping track of. He hadn't come for a source of amusement— he had come here because he simply had no idea what else he was supposed to do at this point.

He had stayed out until midnight putting up posters and handing out fliers. He had called the police day in and day out, demanding that he be given some kind of comforting information or report. He had walked the streets of San Fransokyo until he couldn't put one leg in front of the other. But nothing he did worked at all. Hiro was still gone. Aunt Cass was still upset. Everything was still ruined. So now, at a loss of anything else rational he could possibly do, his worn-out legs and his deflated spirit had led him here.

He'd told Aunt Cass that he was going back down to the Police Station to hear if there was any news. He'd known when he provided the excuse that it was nothing more than that— a mere excuse for something else. Once he'd gotten to the bar, and once he'd seen all of the happy people that didn't even care that Hiro was still missing, he had immediately sat down to order a drink. He couldn't even say what drink it was. He just knew that as soon as it was put down in front of him, he was throwing it back. As if the alcohol could somehow take a physical form and plug up the hole that was yawning a void in his chest.

Three drinks later, though, and the relief could not be found. It was a needle in a haystack, and he was fumbling blind for it. The alcohol burned at his throat on the way down, and it did not help the twisting in his stomach. Drinking wasn't a habit in any sense of the notion. He had just turned twenty-one a few weeks ago. That had been one of Aunt Cass' good days, and she had offered to have a glass of wine with him to celebrate. He'd commented that it tasted awful and that he'd rather stick to the grape juice she had given him last New Year's.

But now he couldn't care less. He found that the more he had, the less the drink came to taste like battery acid. It went down much easier the more he had of it. Halfway through his second, and he wasn't even aware of the tang. He was just attempting to catch that feeling that always seemed to be publicized and promoted in movies or books— he wanted that sense of relief and peace that people always seemed to be rumored to get. Because that was how it went, wasn't it? People drank to drown out something they could not look fully in the face.

But if that really was the case, then Tadashi was the odd man out. Because even by his third drink, he could still remember it all— in fact, the sense was only heightened. He could still hear the way that Aunt Cass' voice always seemed to break when she was forced to remember Hiro. He could still see the pity in the back of his friends' gazes whenever they thought he wasn't looking. He could still see Hiro standing sullenly behind him, and he could still hear his brother's voice, laden down with sorrow and indignation: "Yeah. It is. It's _really_ unfair."

Maybe it was the coupled fact that he was here with nobody knowing— that this entire specific situation was still going on, and yet he still had the audacity to go somewhere without telling Aunt Cass. But as Tadashi sat on the grimy barstool, his mind was swamped over with absolutely everything. He groaned in the back of his throat and leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table and holding his head tightly in his hands.

Frustration and shame burned like fire underneath his skin, branding him with self-blame. How could he have been so _stupid_? How could he have let Hiro go off the way he had, completely alone in the dead of the city at night? Ever since their parents died, Tadashi had made a vow to himself that he would keep Hiro safe and happy to the fullest extent possible. And yet here they were. Hiro had been missing for nearly a year now, and Tadashi was in some seedy bar he wasn't even sure he could get home from. It was like his baby brother hadn't even existed in the first place.

Tadashi's heart tore at the thought of his little brother. He stared down vacantly at the counter, his eyes boring into the lines and grains of wood. He was struggling to remember anything he could about Hiro. The way he rolled his eyes whenever he heard something stupid or ridiculous. The way he sang off-key all the time just to bug Tadashi. The way he grinned from ear-to-ear, the expression nearly too big to fit on his face. Tadashi remembered that on Aunt Cass' birthday ever year, Hiro demanded they make her breakfast in bed, and Tadashi remembered the way that his younger brother used to laugh.

He was grasping at these details as best he could. The thought of forgetting anything about his younger brother was enough to stab fear straight through his stomach. He needed to remember the mess of hair that was on his head, and the gap that was in his teeth. He needed to remember the way he walked and the way he had to stretch in order to reach something tall. He needed to remember the way he looked when he was sad, and the way he looked when he was angry and happy and excited and tired. Tadashi needed to remember all of these and more.

Because as soon as he started to forget them…

A pained noise wrenched itself from the back of his throat. He closed his eyes tightly and sighed, reaching back out to pick up his glass and take another drink. In the back of his mind, he was aware of someone sitting down beside him. But he deemed the fact unworthy of notice. He was too preoccupied at the moment, thinking of the very last conversation he had had with his little brother. He had acted so cold, and so uncaring. On purpose, of course. He had hoped that through the tough love, they could finally reach some sort of impasse.

But Hiro hadn't known that, had he? To him, Tadashi had just been awful, and if Tadashi was being honest, he would wholeheartedly agree with the opinion as well. He'd been such an _idiot_ to treat Hiro that way— Hiro, who, next to Aunt Cass, Tadashi loved the most in this stupid world. He had brushed him aside like it hadn't even mattered. And now…what if that fight – if it could even be called such – was the very last encounter he would ever be able to have with his brother? What if the last thing Hiro would remember Tadashi for was ignoring him and snapping at him?

The thought was enough to make him get sick on the spot, and he was almost impressed that he didn't. He just swallowed hard, gulping back a tight lump that was seated in his throat. He took another drink, cursing whatever Hollywood directors had deemed alcohol to be the cure-all for anything. Because, to him, it just seemed like the more he drank, the worse his thoughts grew to be. Some part of himself tried consoling. It tried to tell him to pay for what he had and just go back home to Aunt Cass.

But the other part of him knew what would be waiting for him there. The silence, the suffocation, and the glaringly-empty bed that was upstairs. No— he didn't want to go back; he knew that much. Not yet. He would stay out for as long as he could, finding that there was no solace in the thought of 'home.' He wasn't even sure that it _was_ a home anymore. Could something still be considered a home when not everyone was there? When it felt as empty as a husk?

Again, his mind was wandering into dangerous territory, and again, he attempted to compensate the change with a quick reach for his drink. But the reach came off messy and mistimed. Rather than grab the glass around its middle properly, Tadashi's hand jerked right beside it. The young man jumped nearly out of his skin as he ended up just knocking the cup over completely. A surprised noise yelped itself into being, and quickly, Tadashi's scrambled and ravaged mind struggled for a solution to the issue. For a heartbeat, though, he could only stare. It was almost funny, wasn't it? To consider a spilled drink a serious issue?

"Oh!" There was a small gasp beside him. Tadashi turned blearily, looking to the left and realizing that the shout had come from the person who had sat down about ten minutes ago. Up until now, she had been completely silent, just sipping on her own drink and doing something on her phone. Now, in fear of the drink leaking over the table to her, she perked and looked over, pocketing her phone. She reached to the side and started to gather up napkins, already taking the initiative to begin blotting up the mess. "Here— let me help," she offered, her voice sweet.

It took Tadashi a moment to wrap his mind around the gesture. Then he reached over and took some napkins himself, putting in his own work. "Thanks," he said, his voice only a mumble. But it was a sense of gratitude nonetheless. The woman smiled and nodded once, not giving an audible reply. She just finished helping mop up the liquid before it could spread to anywhere else. Right now, that was the number one priority. The bartender, from where he stood on the other end, seemed slightly peeved at the mess. There was no point in making any unnecessary enemies.

Though she was not completely oblivious. As she wiped, her eyes flickered over to the culprit of the mess, and the woman seemed slightly concerned at the sorrow that was clouded over the other's expression. The remorse seem thick enough to swim through, almost. She finished cleaning up the spill and then sat back in her chair. Tadashi did the same. A minute passed in silence— only between the two, for certainly the bar was still packed to the brim, and still blaringly loud for this time of night. Tadashi stared blankly ahead, straight forward into the wall, as if he could see something she couldn't.

Eventually, curiosity got the best of the woman. "You seem upset," she said, the effort at conversation coming off lame even to her. It wasn't a good thing to say in the slightest, probably. But in the spur of the moment, it was the best that came off of her tongue. Still, she studied the boy sitting next to her and registered the way that he stiffened just slightly at the small prod. A bit encouraged, she cleared her throat and tilted her head to the side. "And you look a little young to be here."

Tadashi's reply was curt and withdrawn. "I'm twenty-one."

She hesitated. But after a second she figured she wasn't really in any kind of place to refute his age if he gave her one. She just nodded her head once, clearing her throat as she glanced down at the counter. Her lips pursed tightly. "Sorry," she offered after a second, flashing him a small smile that he did not see. "I suppose I shouldn't have said that. I've been confused a bit lately, I guess you could say." She offered a small laugh. Tadashi just glanced at her, not saying anything. He was probably the least willing person on the planet at the moment to make small talk. Regardless of the fact, though, the person went on. "But…if you don't mind my asking. Why _are_ you here?" She paused briefly before offering yet another smile. "Kids like you…you should be out getting ready for Halloween."

It was only a few days away now. She didn't really mean anything by the comment— she was just trying to make some nice conversation.

Maybe a little bit – just a _little_ bit – of conversation would take her mind off of things…

Tadashi's face fell at the seemingly-innocent comment. He blinked and turned, looking down at his now-empty glass as a wave of remorse and choking grief slammed into his gut. He had to force back yet another swallow. The woman seemed a little alarmed at the sharp reaction that was displayed by the boy. It looked as if this person really _was_ in some kind of tragedy or sorrow. He certainly seemed much too beaten-down for someone as young-looking as he appeared to be. Usually a person was not stricken in such a way as this until later on in life. _Much_ later on. Later than _her_ , even.

It took Tadashi a moment to collect himself enough to reply. When his did, his voice was a small mumble that was barely audible in the clamor of the bar. "He loved Halloween." The woman stiffened at this, going as rigid as a board. Her eyebrows pulled together, and she began to look at Tadashi much closer. Oblivious, the boy just rambled on lowly, running his finger along the glass in front of him. "He loved to dress up. And get candy. Gummy Bears were his favorite."

His expression creased and crumbled, and he sighed shakily. His voice was congested and thick now. "One year he wanted to dress up with me. He wanted to be Batman and he wanted me to be Robin. He said we could go together, and that it would be fun." The woman blinked, a frown coming over her own features by this point. Confusion battled with suddenly sharp interest. "But I told him that it would be stupid. That _he_ should be Robin and _I_ should be Batman. Because it made more sense that way." Tadashi's watery eyes narrowed a little, and he gave a coarse laugh that was completely void of humor. "Can you believe that?" he whispered, nearly talking to himself. "I didn't dress up with him….because it wouldn't have made _sense._ "

There was a bout of silence. The woman leaned a little bit closer. "Who is this?" she asked.

Tadashi grimaced deeply, shaking his head. It was like he wasn't even listening. But truth be told, he really wasn't. "I can't believe that I did that," he growled angrily. "I was such a jerk. And I _yelled_ at him, and I probably drove him away, and now…now I don't even know…" He trailed off, as if he had suddenly forgotten what he was talking about and just decided to end it there. That, or he was just afraid of completing the thought for fear of what lay at its end. He just shook his head again and bit down on his lower lip, fighting the urge to fall apart right there in that stupid bar.

Why had he even come, again?

The woman's eyes flashed. She cleared her throat and asked a little hesitantly: "Are you…you aren't…you aren't the brother, are you?" she dared to ask. With the question, Tadashi straightened a little bit and turned to look at her. He just stared, though— he did not offer an answer of any kind. Hesitating again for only a short moment, the person sitting beside him pressed: "That boy who went missing. Aren't you his brother? I think I remember seeing you and his aunt on the television."

There was a long stretch of nothing. Tadashi just stared blankly at her, not uttering a single sound. After a moment, however unsure, the woman continued with a small frown. "I've heard about the boy," she said. "I've been keeping up with his story closely. It's almost been a year, hasn't it?" Tadashi turned and looked back down at the empty glass in front of him. His stare seemed to weigh nearly a million pounds. She realized that she might be overstepping some kind of boundaries, but regardless, she could not bring herself to stop. "I'm very sorry," the woman pressed. "That must be awful to go through. I can't imagine what it's like."

Tadashi reached up and rubbed his forehead, grimacing deeply. His voice came out in the smallest of mutters. "I could have done something different…I could have stopped him from leaving. I could have. It's all my fault." He sighed loosely, his shoulders drooping. He was gradually adopting a splitting headache, and he was fit to scream, for more reasons than one. But mostly it was just this one— that it was only a short stretch of days before Hiro had been gone for three hundred and sixty-five. Tadashi flinched, the thought striking him across the face. Before he could stop himself, the thought slipped off his tongue. "He's dead." He ducked his head, as if to hide from the fear. "He's dead…" This one came out as a mere rasp.

The woman stiffened. Her eyes widened a little bit, surprise lighting her features. "He's dead!?" she gasped out. "They…they found that out? How did he die? Was he…was he murdered?" The ignorant, probably heartless, question burst forth before she could gain a level enough mind to keep track of what was happening. But the idea shocked her. She had been reading the newspaper every day for some sort of progression in what was happening with the missing child case. If the boy who was gone had been found out to be dead instead, she was certain that she would know.

Tadashi took his time in replying. His eyes seemed to get shinier and shinier in the dull light of the bar. Eventually he reached up to scrub at them with a harsh intake of air. "No," he said, his voice thick. "No, they didn't find that out," he said, the woman relaxing visibly at the news. "But that's just the thing." His gaze sharpened into a scowl of anger, and it looked as if he was about to grab his empty glass and chuck it against the nearest wall. "The police haven't found _anything_. Not even his stupid jacket." He rubbed at his face again. "No…I just think…it's complicated." His expression fell. "That's what I've heard."

She tilted her head to the side. "People have told you he might be dead?"

He sighed. "My aunt said it first," he said slowly, ignoring the look of shock that flickered over the other's features. "She regretted it later— she said that she was just angry and sad then, and that she didn't really think that he was dead when it burst out." He rested his chin on his hand, the anger that had come over him melting back into sorrow as quickly as it had changed in the first place. He shook his head in a listless fashion. "Then I asked my professor at school. The only other person I could ever bring myself to look up to." He sighed shakily. "He said that he thought Hiro was dead to."

She grimaced. "That's awful," she said. "To look at someone and say something like that."

He hung his head. "But what other choice is there?" he asked, his voice deflated. "To fill people up with empty promises that'll never come true?" The woman didn't reply— she couldn't bring herself to. So Tadashi went on, though he talked more to himself than anything else. "I should have stopped him," he whispered. "I could have stopped him before he left. Then he would still be home. Whatever happened to him…it wouldn't have happened if it hadn't been for me. This is all my fault. He's gone because of me. Whatever happens to him… _had_ happened…it's on me."

"You shouldn't think like that," the woman objected wearily. "Nothing is on you or anyone else in your family. You have to believe in that line of thought." When Tadashi did not react, she frowned, trying to change tactics as she took in a small breath. "You also shouldn't give up so easily." Tadashi roused and glanced over her way. She offered him a small smile. "He's out there somewhere, right? I think so. And I think that you will find him someday. It might not be tomorrow, and it might not be the next day. But I truly _do_ think that he's out there."

Tadashi hesitated. He stared at her for a long time, as if he had never looked at another human being in ages. Or maybe it was just more along the lines of never seeing _hope_ in ages. Whatever the look was derived from, it pained the woman's heart. It was a long stretch of silence in between them before Tadashi spoke, his voice barely managing to be heard above the music and the drone of conversation around them. "I don't think I'm able to have as much optimism as you seem to."

She continued to aim a weak grin his way. "My husband says it's my best _and_ my worst trait," she said.

He nodded. He turned away again. He fell silent, not saying anything in turn.

She bit down on her lower lip hard, looking down at studying the bar. She reached over and dragged her finger along the wooden grooves of counter again, for the sake of having something to do other than wallow in the quiet. Tadashi seemed to be taking to spacing off, his mind slipping as he stared ahead. He didn't seem to be inclined for conversation in the slightest. The woman glanced over at him repeatedly, her stomach getting into more and more knots the longer she sat beside him. There seemed to be the weight of something untold pushing down on their shoulders.

She considered just getting up and leaving. It was what most people would do in her situation, after all, wasn't it? They would see someone like Tadashi, and they would just give up entirely. But she stayed, looking between the young man and his empty glass. There was something truly not right about the picture. Someone as young as him…shouldn't be so broken and run-down as he seemed to be. And it made sense, after all. He and his aunt had gone nearly twelve months not with their family member missing. There was a hole in their life, and it had been this way for much too long.

Were they both like this? So…beaten-down and hopeless?

She bit down even harder on her lip. She told herself to leave it be. At the most, contact the police— she was already being highly insensitive just by doing this. She would only make things all the more worse by doing something even more extreme. However something made her double back. She remembered her previous efforts, and how they had been shot down entirely. So she leaned over, clearing her throat as she began to fish through her purse.

"I don't know whether or not this is overstepping boundaries," she said slowly. Tadashi perked, turning and looking blandly at her as she fumbled through her bag. "And I don't even know whether or not this is even right. But I just know that it's truly an awful thing to see you so hopeless. Because I don't think you should be accepting this as easily as you seem to be." She put the slip of paper down on the bar, uncapping the pen she had fished out as well and starting to scribble out a small note.

"A while back I heard a sound that was…concerning…from _somewhere_ in my neighborhood," she explained. Tadashi stiffened, his eyes beginning to widen as he sat up a little bit straighter. "I called the police, because I had been keeping up with the Hiro Hamada case. I was a little bit on-edge, I'll be the first to admit. My husband scoffed at me, and the police officer did pretty much the same thing. Though he _did_ say that without…you know, reasonable suspicion or whatever they call it, they can't really do anything. Because he didn't hear anything after what I heard."

Tadashi was all ears now, it seemed. His stare could burn a hole straight through her.

"I haven't heard anything recently as clear as that night. Sometimes I think I heard something, but I can't be sure whether or not it's real, or just me overthinking it all because of that first one." She frowned, becoming unsure again the longer she explained herself. The woman scooted the slip of paper over half-heartedly to where Tadashi was sitting. At first he just stared down at it dumbly. "That's the name of it. Of my neighborhood. I don't know if it'll be of any use," she offered weakly. "Like I said, the definite noise I heard was a while ago. But…from what I can tell, there hasn't been much progress made in a while concerning your little brother." She frowned. "Maybe…you know…just because the police need probable cause…it doesn't really mean that you do. Right?"

"What did you hear?" Tadashi asked, still looking stunned. As if he could not comprehend anything in this new hint of hope. "What noise did you hear back then?"

She hesitated and winced slightly. "Well…I can't be too sure," she said lamely.

He turned and looked at her now. His expression was more than intent.

She cleared her throat. "To me, it sounded like screaming. And…it sounded like a young boy," she said bluntly, nearly immediately regretting the words. Tadashi's face fell, and it looked like his stomach did the same. It was like the other had smacked him clear across the face without warning. "But like I said, it could have been anything. The police haven't looked into it or anything. Or if they did, they never came up with enough to get a warrant. I couldn't point out a singular house or anything. It was just…towards the more southern part of it all. But…seeing you so beaten down…" She looked pained. "You shouldn't give up so quickly. Because even if this doesn't mean anything, and my husband was right, your brother could be out there somewhere. Waiting for you to find him. You know?"

Tadashi picked up the paper, looking at the name of the neighborhood silently. Though she noticed that the gleam in his eyes came from something other than tears now. He wasn't even glancing at the glass in front of him anymore, when before it was all he seemed to care about. He turned back, looking almost hungry. "This is your neighborhood?" he demanded, his voice growing quick and hot. She nodded. "And you heard screaming?"

"I think I did, yes. I told the police, and they couldn't do much about it."

"But you did hear screaming?" Tadashi pressed.

"A while ago," she added. Again, she had to wonder if this was the right course of action. But she supposed there was no going back at this point. "But yes. I would swear on anything you asked me to that I heard something funny. Something I've never heard before, and I've lived in that neighborhood for thirteen years now. It definitely put me off."

Tadashi looked from her to the note. She was worried he would get whiplash. "The southern part?"

She nodded again. "Yes. The half of the neighborhood that ends more in courts and driveways. I live right by it."

He could not hold the question back. "And you think it's him?"

She couldn't lie. Not now, anyway. Not when they had gotten this far. She offered the young man a smile, beginning to feel relief. Even if this turned out to be some goose chase…couldn't she still find some solace in the fact that the young man seemed more relieved now? More energized, and something other than defeated and shattered? "I think it could be," she said truthfully. "I've walked a few times down there trying to find something, but I came up short. Maybe you'll do better than I did. After all, Hiro hasn't been found yet. He could very well be somewhere down there."

He seemed to be thinking a million miles a minute. "Yeah…" Tadashi continued to stare down at the slip of paper. But after a few heartbeats more, he suddenly jumped up from his seat. The woman jerked in surprise at the sharp motion, and Tadashi stumbled a little bit, as if he was about to fall. But he caught himself, and quickly turned, reaching over and grabbing her hand in his own. He shook it quickly, the force he used nearly tearing her arm out of its socket. His eyes were alight with nearly seven different emotions at once. He was worried, scared, confused, wary, ecstatic, and more. His voice came out in a rush. "Thank you, I'll— I'll look into this. Thank you."

She smiled a bit nervously. "Of course," she said. "You're…you're welcome." Again, she had to wonder if she was doing the right thing. She had to wonder if there was even anything for her to be thanked _for_. She _did_ believe that what she had heard really was the missing boy. It had been a thought that had been digging at her ever since she had first heard the scream. But that had been so long ago. And she hadn't really heard anything else from her neighborhood since then.

What if….?

Tadashi looked down blankly at the loose leaf. Eventually he stammered: "I've got to go. I've got to…I've got to call some people. But thank you." He turned to leave, looking fit to sprint out of the bar. But at the last second he jerked back. "My name's Tadashi," he said, almost stupidly. There was no doubt this person knew his name already if she was keeping up with the case. But he felt the need to say it anyway, what with the hope that she had just placed in his hands. This wasn't at all how he thought the night would go, and he was left reeling after this surprising blow. "What's yours?"

"Stacy," she returned with a smile. "Stacy Crane."

"Stacy Crane," Tadashi repeated in a rush. He looked again down at the paper. He probably would have smiled, if he wasn't so anxious and confused. Hurriedly he nodded and repeated his words. "Thank you. I've got to go— but thank you." She opened her mouth to reply, but it was pointless. Tadashi turned on his heel and broke into a run. He was a little bit sloppier than normal on his legs, but he didn't care at all. He rushed out of the darkened bar, and Stacy watched him burst out of the door and turn to the left. He was out of sight within thirty seconds.

She frowned, wishing that she could feel some sort of triumph for what had just happened. After all, this ordeal she had been carrying with her for so long…hadn't she wanted her knowledge to get _somewhere_? Now it was in the hands of the very _family_ she had been afraid for. But surprisingly enough, she didn't feel anything like that. Instead she was just…nervous. All the doubts she'd stifled, and everything that her husband and the officer had told her was welling back up, moving from the back of her mind back up to the forefront.

Listlessly, she started to trace the pattern of the counter in front of her again.

What if she had just made a horrible mistake?

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"No, no. That's not how the song goes."

"Oh."

"Well, that's alright. We can just try again tomorrow." Callaghan sighed with an air of disappointment. Yet at the same time, he resigned himself to knowing that it was getting late. Hiro was probably just getting tired. It was nearing midnight by this point. Not only was Hiro half-asleep because of the hour, but Callaghan had work to go to in the morning, too.

The man had spent nearly the past five hours playing Hiro all of Abigail's favorite songs. Abigail used to love to turn on the radio and sing along to the tracks she loved the most; she could pass the entire day just singing along to the special few that she adored. It used to always make her so happy, and it used to make Callaghan just as much so, to be able to watch her dance and trill along. Just thinking back to the way Abigail had grinned caused the man's chest to constrict and warm. He had hoped that Hiro could do the same, and he would be able to experience that same loving feeling he got.

But Hiro didn't know any of the songs that Abigail had treasured. When Callaghan had played them for him, no light fostered itself in the boy's eyes— he didn't even smile. He just stared blankly. It was a habit that he had adopted recently, but at the same time, it was a habit that Callaghan was determined to squash. They spent hours on end listening to and then relistening to the songs that Callaghan could remember his daughter loving in particular.

Callaghan had been set on the idea that by now, Hiro would be able to sing along just as Abigail had. But to no avail. He was just as lost as when they started, somehow. A look of confusion seemed fixed permanently to his features, and whenever he did try and sing (at Callaghan's force) his voice was quiet and subdued, hardly able to be heard. And it was clear now that he was too tired to even try anymore.

Though his injuries had gone uninfected, and had actually come along very well for their situation, he was still starkly pale and almost always tired. Even now that they were pretty much as healed as they could possibly get, considering nearly a month or so had passed. When Callaghan was not worming conversation or interaction out of him, Hiro was usually sleeping. Another habit that the boy had taken up now seemed to be tense nerves. At every sound, Hiro jerked, as if whatever he had heard was ten times the volume. There was a flitting way to how he held himself, and sometimes his hands broke out into unexplainable tremors.

Callaghan told himself that there wasn't much point in worrying over these trivial details.

Hiro was alive, and that was enough for him.

Currently, Hiro had sagged back down to lay on the floor. They still had not moved up from the basement— Robert figured that for now this was a good enough spot to remain. Once Hiro could act a bit more like Abigail, then he could go back up to her room. It was still a work in progress. Callaghan had taught Hiro some of her old jokes, and he had listed off some of the movies that had been her favorite. Once they got past the point of instruction…possibly then Hiro could move back upstairs. For now, Hiro was so groggy and quiet that he was to stay on the floor.

It was simply the price to pay.

Nozomi had been allowed back with Hiro. Currently, the dog was shuffling into Hiro's arms, the bad one still bandaged tightly just in case. She curled up close to him, like she typically did. She extended her neck and gave him a sloppy kiss on his nose, causing a small smile to flicker over her owner's tired face. Then she settled down, resting her head on his good arm after pressing herself against his chest snugly. There seemed to be an air of content between the both of them once they were together. Hiro held her a little tighter to himself and started to curl around her just a little bit, as if to make sure she did not slip away.

Callaghan observed the exchange between the two of them. His eyes were slightly narrowed as he watched Hiro cling to the dog. There seemed to be something in the back of his eyes, yet if there was, it stayed there. Instead, he just sighed and went on. "Well, like I said, we can just try again tomorrow." With the small promise, he waited for the reply that he was sure Hiro would give. However, Hiro only curled up a little bit tighter to Nozomi; he didn't even lift his head to look up at Callaghan.

A bit of disappointment flashed through Robert's eyes and he cleared his throat. He leaned over and laid his hand on Hiro's arm, rubbing it gently up and down as he avoided the area it had been slashed through. "Huh, Hiro?" he prompted, waiting again for an agreement. But Hiro just bit down on his lower lip. This seemed to be the last of Callaghan's patience, however. He was desperate for an agreement— for some kind of audible reply that would assure him that this new effort would not be wasted like some others had already been. "Hiro?" Callaghan moved his hand and tightened his hold on Hiro's arm ever so slightly. In the process, his fingers curled down and caused the skin around Hiro's knife wound to pull and constrict. "We can try again tomorrow, right?"

The boy stiffened and bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming out or getting sick. His body stiffened in a reaction to the agony, and hurriedly he forced himself to agree before the pain could double itself or even worse. "Yes!" he all but yelped, his good leg curling up tight to his chest as he felt tears flood to sting and burn at his eyes. At this, Callaghan's grip went lax once more, Hiro remaining tense and rigid as he waited for the waves of pain to subside. He was gritting his teeth so hard that his head was aching even more than it usually did.

"Good!" Robert gushed, thoroughly pleased with the reply, however dragged-out it had been. He checked his wristwatch, stiffening at the time. Hiro watched him with a gaze that was far too weighted-down— he had no idea what time it was. He hadn't the faintest clue on what day it was, or what month it was, even. It had been difficult enough to figure it out when he was upstairs, and actually brave enough to ask for such information. Now, with the basement darker than upstairs all the time, Hiro didn't know if it was ten in the morning, or eleven at night. He couldn't use himself to know such a thing either— now, he was always bone-tired and exhausted.

"I should be getting upstairs now," Robert said, Hiro starting to forget the pain in his arm again as he ducked back into Nozomi. "But I'll be back here tomorrow after school." Hiro felt a pang in his chest at the mention of Robert's job. Of the fact that he would be going in tomorrow and staying all day. At the fact that Tadashi would be there, and yet have no idea what was going on. It was enough to make Hiro scream, but he knew that even if he did, nothing would change. It would all remain the same.

He was beginning to realize the fact that there was no hope to hang onto anymore.

"Goodnight, Hiro," Robert murmured, Hiro closing his eyes tightly at the amount of affection that was crammed into those two words. Callaghan leaned over, starting to move in order to plant a kiss on top of Hiro's head. It was the last thing Callaghan always did before leaving, and Hiro was getting better and better at withholding the disgust and fear that bubbled underneath his skin at the gesture. The child closed his eyes and bit down again, knowing that moving away was not an option.

But surprisingly, something cut Callaghan off before he could offer his kiss. Hiro stiffened as he felt Nozomi shift underneath him, and his eyes opened and widened as the dog began to growl. The sound was rumbling and guttural— she got up from the floor and turned to look at Callaghan, her fur bristling as she bared her teeth. At first, the change just confused Hiro. Nozomi hadn't reacted in such a way to anything up until this point; usually she was just puzzled and bemused about what was going on. She'd never gotten…angry.

Hiro hadn't seen her in forever— ever since his act with the knife, probably. He had just 'gotten her back' a few days ago, hadn't he? If they were days, he still wasn't sure. But was that the chief reason she was like this? Hiro had no idea. He just watched, his gaze clearing briefly from the foggy sense of sorrow that usually clouded it as he looked at his dog in shock. Callaghan did the same, clearly caught off-guard at the sign of aggression. And Nozomi didn't seem to be keen on backing down, either. She was standing up, in front of Hiro squarely as she rumbled out a sign of warning. It wasn't very loud, but for a dog that had only been shown to cuddle and lick up until this point, it was blatant all the same.

For a while, both Hiro and Callaghan just looked at her with similar stares of astonishment. Then, Callaghan's expression soured, and Hiro's stomach flipped at the amount of anger that quickly clouded his vision. A stab of fear went through Hiro's chest, and before Callaghan could do anything, the boy jerked forward, grabbing hold of Nozomi with his good arm and tugging her back. She was still stiff to the touch, and even as she was pulled to her owner, she was still just as aggressive. Her tail was sticking straight out, and her teeth were still showing. It was as if she saying: "Let me at him! Let me at him!"

Robert watched coldly. Hiro cringed at the angry expression that was aimed over to him, and he ducked down to look at the floor instead. It was easier to focus on, and maybe then, his heartbeat would not be ramming so loudly in his ears. When Callaghan spoke next, his voice was frigid and angry. "Get your dog under control, Hiro." Hiro closed his eyes tightly, choking back a frightened whimper. His voice sharpening, Callaghan pressed. "Get her under control, Hiro! Do you understand me!?"

"Yes!" Again, the reply was nothing more than a horrified mewl. He held close to the dog, his hands shaking as he struggled to get some sort of comfort from her. She was still too focused on Callaghan, however. The man scowled at this, looking dissatisfied. However, he did leave the situation at that. He turned and started for the stairs, not even finishing his goodnight to Hiro. He went up the steps, and Nozomi watched him closely, right up until the point he shut the door behind him.

Then she perked, and all aggression slipped away from her like water. She spun around, panting excitedly as she turned and landed her own sloppy kisses onto Hiro. The boy brightened now, smiling gently as he studied her. Exhausted just from that, Hiro laid back down on the floor. Nozomi was soon after, plopping back into her spot and placing her head lovingly on top of Hiro's uninjured arm. She curled up close and let out a loose huff of air, sighing away the trouble that they had run into.

Hiro blinked a few times and then buried his head down into her fur like he always did. A wide smile split across his face, and he felt a warm burst of gratitude and love for the dog that he had not asked for, yet now would not trade for anything. His voice was rough and scratchy against his throat when he spoke, and with how dry it was, it caused him a small sense of pain. Regardless, he reached up to rub at her ears. "Thank you," he mumbled, his words nearly getting lost in her fluffy fur.

"I love you," he whispered, feeling a heartbreaking sting in his chest at the three words that he would usually reserve solely for Aunt Cass or Tadashi. Saying them now, to something else, felt wrong and weird on his tongue. But he said it nonetheless, for the first time in…well, he had no idea by this point. A year? Two years? An entire lifetime? Either of them could be true. And each of them were just as daunting. However, the pain was a little bit easier to stand when Nozomi gave out a small chuff and settled down closer to him.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"In terms of this whole plan idea working, I give it a…three out of ten?" Wasabi sighed ruefully.

"I give it a _one million_ out of ten!" Fred all but screeched, his eyes bright as he ran around the group in tight circles. "Because we get to go out trick-or-treating!" Nobody else seemed as bright as he was, but that might have been because nobody else was dressed up. While Fred was clad in some superhero outfit that nobody really knew, everyone else was just in normal street clothes. They looked like any other parent that was currently taking their kids out for the night.

Tadashi was up at the front of the group, leading them away from the tenth house that night. They figured that this was the best means of going on from the slip of paper that had been handed to Tadashi by that woman in the bar. Knocking on doors was weird, but it was commonplace on tonight of all nights. Gogo had brought along a piece of paper, and they had decided that they would just write down the houses that struck them the wrong way. That, and the houses whose lights were off— those were marked suspicious as well. It wasn't much in itself, and it wasn't even much to go off of, either. Half of them knew that it was a wild goose chase. But when Tadashi had approached them, they could not say no.

Especially if this sense of hope would keep their friend from going out to any more bars.

Tadashi's eyes were narrowed into determined slits. "Let's try the next house." He turned back to look at Gogo, who perked immediately, having not been paying attention. "Did you write down that one?" he asked.

Gogo seemed uncertain. She glanced over her shoulder, looking back at the one they had just left. The woman at the door was now handing out packs of Sprees to the next batch of kids that had been behind them. Gogo watched as she paused long enough to reach over and tug affectionately on the cheek of baby who was dressed up like Tigger. "Write down _that_ one?" she asked, bemused. When Tadashi nodded, she tilted her head to the side. "Why? That person looks like they're made of glitter and cupcakes. It's almost sickening."

"She didn't let Fred use the bathroom when he asked," Tadashi reminded her. They had two ways in finding out whether or not the house was 'trustworthy.' The first one was with Fred— Fred would make a fuss and ask if he could use the bathroom, as he was in the middle of 'an emergency.' Or Honey Lemon would ask to use the bathroom and borrow a Band-Aid. Coincidentally, she had fallen earlier that morning, and her knee was currently scraped up and torn pretty bad. She had taken off her bandage for the sake of this plan that they were trying to go off of. Anybody that would refuse them to enter the house was marked down once they left.

So far, though, Fred had put forth his bathroom emergency at every stop. He was adamant on his stance to help as much as he could. Helping being demanding the restroom as soon as someone opened the door. Gogo scowled, popping her bubblegum as she threw a look over at her friend. "That's because he makes it seem like he's going to murder the entire house as soon as he crosses the threshold," she scoffed. Reluctant to push her friend, she frowned and continued a little bit more gently. "I don't know, Tadashi. You've wanted to write down the last three houses we stopped by…"

Tadashi flashed over with irritation. "That's because we _can't miss_ a _single_ house!" he pushed.

Wasabi grimaced. "I mean, we _are_ a bunch of adults walking around on Halloween," he mumbled. There was a beat of hesitation before he amended himself with a glance over at Fred. "Well…most of us are adults. I guess I meant more in the legal sense rather than…" Fred turned and looked down into his candy bag, which had only a few measly pickings, given his age. Still, his eyes were blazing with excitement and barely-withheld ecstasy. Wasabi decided that it was best not to finish his thought.

Tadashi locked his jaw backwards. "I don't care," he growled, his voice flatter than ever. He turned abruptly and made a beeline for the next house. The others exchanged nervous glances, not really sure what to do. It _had_ been nearly a year by this point. And all of this _was_ off of some hunch from a random stranger. But they didn't really have the option to suddenly drop Tadashi now. They had promised to come along and help because they knew that Aunt Cass would not be able to take any of this, and they also didn't want their friend out on his own. They couldn't just drop it now.

So they followed. This time there wasn't a group of kids up in front of them, so they had the chance to ring the doorbell all on their own. Tadashi was at the front, as usual, and the second that he rang the doorbell, he seemed more than impatient. His eyes were narrowed near into slits, and his hands curled into fists at either of his sides. Honey Lemon bit down on her lower lip worriedly at the signs of anxiety, but she kept her comments to herself. She knew that there wouldn't really be a point to it by now. It would just be best to wait it all out. Maybe it would get somewhere, but more likely, it just wouldn't. And then they could deal with that issue once it came to be.

The door finally opened, and Honey Lemon breathed out a sigh of relief. It was some sweet old woman. Completely void of any danger whatsoever. The woman was wearing some bumblebee antennas, and despite the age of the group that was standing in front of her, a grin split her face. "Well, look at you!" she yelped, looking at Fred with wide eyes. "You look like quite the superhero, young man! It's so lovely to see young kids keeping up the Halloween spirit! Oh boy! You're so cute!"

Fred stiffened, his eyes going wide. He looked down at his costume and his cape. Tadashi looked over at him, silently screaming at him to speak up. But to his utter frustration, Fred was far too preoccupied at the moment. He was over the moon, and he immediately gushed over at the flattery. "Oh, well!" he scoffed, his voice blustery and quick. "I mean… _yeah_ I do look pretty good! I mean…" He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck.

The old woman grinned, and then turned to look over at Honey Lemon. The girl stiffened as the woman's eyes flickered down to her bruised and torn knee. "My goodness, dearie!" she gasped sharply. "You need a bandage on that! My niece hates the things you know, but you must know how awful it is to just leave those things be!" Honey Lemon looked down at her injury, a little bit caught off-guard. "Do you need a bandage, dearie?" she pressed. "I have plenty! I'm such a klutz!" She fell into a fit of giggles.

Honey Lemon opened her mouth to reply, but she was a little bit confused.

Fred blinked and said a little awkwardly: "I have to go to the bathroom."

The old woman looked at him at once. "Do you need to come inside?" she asked.

Tadashi ducked down to hold his head in his hands, looking disappointed. Wasabi frowned, his expression crawling over with sorrow at the weighted-down look of his friend. He cleared his throat, trying one last-ditch attempt to maybe get in some kind of direction with this wild goose chase. "Actually, ma'am," he started respectfully.

The woman interrupted, grinning kindly as she said: "Oh, you may call me Mrs. Shelts, my dear," she said, her voice oozing over with sweetness.

Wasabi smiled at this. "Mrs. Shelts," he corrected himself. Then he took in a breath and went on. Tadashi glanced over at him as he did. "Mrs. Shelts, we're with the Neighborhood Committee," he said, the old woman perking with yet another sharp inhale of surprise. "We've been getting some complaints about noise recently. We were wondering whether or not you've heard any noises that you thought were concerning recently. It would _really_ help us out a lot."

Mrs. Shelts covered her mouth briefly, looking between the group with something close to amazement. "My!" she yelped. "I had no idea that we had a Neighborhood Committee! What a _wonderful_ idea!" She turned and patted Gogo's shoulder affectionately, Gogo's eyes growing round at the contact. "I am always _the last_ person to know what's going on around here!" she giggled. Then she regathered herself and turned to smile dutifully at Wasabi. "Well, dearie, I don't really have much to complain about! My ears don't work as well as they used to, really. Aside from the normal hubbub, it's been just a heavenly place to live!"

Tadashi went stiff. Against himself, he pushed aggressively. "What normal hubbub?" he asked, feeling a little stupid asking this. But he didn't care, really. Now, he was all ears. His eyes were wide, and Mrs. Shelts seemed a little taken aback by the amount of intensity that suddenly sprang up from the other.

She tilted her head to the side. "Well, it's my neighbor," she said, looking over to the house adjacent to them. Tadashi did not waste a second to spin around and follow her gaze. "You see, a while ago he had his nephew come and stay with him. He said that his sister was on some sort of business trip, and she could not take care of her son. So he decided to take him up himself. A very sweet gesture, in my opinion, don't you think?" When Tadashi didn't reply, she cleared her throat and went on. "Well, sometimes his nephew gets loud— but it does not last for very long. Just…children being children. Screaming up and down the halls, you know. My daughter used to be the same."

Tadashi's gaze clouded over.

Honey Lemon glanced at him. "That could be what Stacy heard," she whispered to him.

He didn't reply.

Her forehead creased. "What are you thinking?"

His next words came out in a growl, though they were aimed to Mrs. Shelts, not Honey Lemon. "How long has he had his nephew?" he asked.

Mrs. Shelts hesitated. "Well, I'm not quite sure, my dear," she said. "His nephew may be gone now, for all I'm aware. But…well, when he told me of his nephew, it was quite a while ago. His sister must be on a very important business trip. I could never bring myself to leave my children for too long, you know. Have you been reading the paper? That young boy from uptown has been gone for ages now. Oh, if I was his mother, and I could not hold him close, I would surely be worse for wear!"

Tadashi flashed her a look. "Thank you," he said, his voice stiffer than normal. He grabbed Honey Lemon and Gogo's hands, tugging the two of them away as he started for the next house in question. Wasabi offered a small 'thank-you' to the woman at the door before he turned and followed. Fred looked this way and that, obviously torn to leave after she had been so nice as to compliment his outfit. But at Tadashi's sharp call, he sighed and rushed away as well.

Tadashi was walking so fast to the other house, he might as well have been running. "Tadashi!" Gogo called out. When her friend did not reply, she huffed. "Tadashi! Slow down!" Her voice and features alike were pinched with irritation. "What do you think is going to happen?" she demanded. "Look— this person's porch light is still on!" Tadashi wasn't paying attention. He rushed along up the steps to the front door of the home. He reached over and knocked on the door three times. Gogo wrenched her hand out of his grip, letting out an exhausted sigh as she grimaced. "Tadashi, look," she tried weakly, before the person could open the door. "This is really just a bad situation to be in, okay? I think we should go." The person started to answer their call, and she tried one last time: "If this person was something to be worried about, don't you think they would have shut their porch light—"

The door opened, and Gogo was cut off immediately. Tadashi's look of suspicion and slowly-growing anger was quickly wiped away with shock and confusion. After about five seconds of pure puzzlement on both ends, Tadashi broke the silence. His voice came out about an octave higher than it normally was. "P-Professor Callaghan!?" he asked, finding himself face-to-face with his teacher.

Professor Callaghan looked just as shocked to see him on the other side of the threshold, but he too seemed to get over it. "Tadashi!" he greeted, his voice a warm laugh. He looked at the kids in front of him, in a way that showed he was reluctant to believe what was in front of him. "Well, this is a surprise!" he laughed. "I've never had any of my _students_ come to my house for _trick-or-treating._ " He eyed them all humorously. "Maybe to throw eggs at my house at one in the morning. But never to get candy."

Tadashi blinked, an awkward smile crawling over his face. "R-Right," he said, turning and looking at his friends. But they were all just as lost on what to do. They just stared at him, waiting for what he would do. Far more uncertain than he was on the way over here, he gave a small cough to try and clear his throat. "Well…we were just…trying to see whether or not we could…get some still," he mumbled.

Callaghan eyed Fred's candy bag, which was remorsefully empty. "I see you're having a bit of trouble."

Tadashi coughed again, his ears turning pink. "Just a bit…yeah…"

"Well! I'm always ready to help out my favorite students!" Callaghan turned and fetched the bowl that was nearby. It was filled with Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. "You can take as many as you'd like." He turned and offered a wink to Fred. "I love your costume."

Tadashi started to say something when he was cut off. There was a flurry of footsteps from inside and something flew around the corner into view. Tadashi's eyes went ten times their normal size just before he was attacked by a large white blob. He staggered, nearly falling over as a dog slammed directly into him. "Oof!" he gasped, nearly getting winded by the thing. He grinned as the dog scrabbled at him, and he reached over to rub at its ears with a grin. "Hey, little guy!" he said warmly. "You're so cute!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Callaghan put the bowl aside again and leaned over to try and pry the dog away. The animal seemed opposed to this however, barking loudly as it struggled to stay where it was. "This dog is such a bother," he sighed, looking irritated beyond belief. "I've really got to train her more. She's not even really mine, she's…" He trailed off, not finishing.

Fred spoke up, surpassingly. His forehead was a little bit creased. "Your nephew's?" he asked.

Professor Callahan perked, looking confused for a split second. "Huh?" he asked.

Tadashi tried to shoo the dog away as best he could without harming it. Honey Lemon watched with a bright look. But Fred stayed where he was, looking skeptical. He was wearing a small frown. "Your nephew? Who's staying with you? Your neighbor was telling us about it. She said that it's really noisy over here sometimes."

Robert blinked rapidly. He turned and finally got the dog off of Tadashi. She looked wildly disappointed with the break, giving out loud whines. "Right," he said quickly. Fred just blinked, staring at him expectantly. To his credit, the man offered him a smile. "That's right. She's my nephew's. I wasn't sure whether or not I should explain the whole…ordeal with you all. But as long as you already know." He pushed the dog backwards, her ears wilting in the meantime. "Well, I hope you all have a good rest of your night!" he bode. "Hopefully others will offer you just as much candy as I did!"

Tadashi offered him a weak grin. "Sorry for bothering you, Professor," he apologized.

"It's no trouble at all," he replied easily. "I hope to see you in—"

"Where's your nephew now?" Fred asked.

Professor Callaghan blinked, surprised as he turned. His eyebrows pulled together a bit. "Excuse me?"

Tadashi glared at his friend. "Fred!" he hissed lowly. "Stop it."

"No, I just want to know where his nephew is!" Fred reasoned. "It's just a question."

Honey Lemon flushed in embarrassment. "That's really creepy, Fred."

Callaghan offered him yet another tense grin. "He's out trick-or-treating."

Fred raised his eyebrows. "How old is he? Old enough to go out tonight on his own, but not enough to know that he shouldn't spend all night—?"

"I'm sorry, Professor!" Tadashi said quickly. He grabbed Fred by the hand and tugged him back down the steps. The group immediately followed, rushing to get away from the teacher in this new sense of heated embarrassment. Callaghan watched them go, unmoving for a moment. Only when they were out on the street again did he turn and shut the door again. Tadashi watched this with a tense expression before he turned to round angrily on his costumed friend.

"What the heck!?" Tadashi demanded in a harsh mutter. Fred blinked rapidly, looking confused as he looked from Tadashi to the house. "What were you doing?" he asked in a rush.

"Dude, don't be like that!" Fred snapped, his forehead creasing. "I could ask _you_ the same thing! You heard what that old woman said, didn't you!? You were all psyched up to do what we _came out here to do_ , and then when that guy opened the door, you totally just froze up! What was with that?"

Tadashi huffed. "That's my _professor_ , Fred," he sighed. "He's not some criminal. He wouldn't do that."

"He didn't know what I meant when I asked about his _nephew_!" Fred objected. "He had no idea what I meant!" The others were silent, just watching the confrontation unfold with heavy looks. Honey Lemon even glanced over her shoulder to look back at the house in question. "Look, it might be just me, but he doesn't seem like the best apple in the orchard, right?" He turned, looking over at Gogo and pointing down at her notebook. "Here— go on; write him down."

"Don't write him down!" Tadashi snapped. "Look— I _know_ Professor Callaghan! He wouldn't just…" He trailed off, not even able to finish his sentence.

Fred was still in disbelief. "Dude, Mrs. Shelts said his nephew was over _a while ago_. And that Stacy chick said that she heard yelling from this part of the neighborhood! If we came out here to find the worst-looking thing in this area, I think we just did!" He stared at Tadashi with expectancy, but Tadashi just stared at him. He seemed at a loss, his expression wilted as he turned to stare at the home. He didn't say anything. Fred shook his head and took initiative himself. "Write the address down! I don't like the looks of this guy."

" _This gu_ y," Tadashi repeated, his voice hollow. "He's my _teacher_. He's _helped_ me through this _entire_ thing!" His eyes were pained beyond belief. "He can't be the person who's responsible for my brother! Look— he even gave us all Re—" His face fell, and he broke off, staring down at the candy. He didn't say anything else.

Honey Lemon asked softly: "Didn't you say that he told you he thought Hiro was dead?"

He turned and looked at her with shock. "You think it might be him too?"

She didn't say anything, she just stared at him.

His shoulders drooped. "Honey Lemon— you _know_ him! You know that he wouldn't—"

She grimaced. "I just think it's a little weird, is all," she admitted. "The weirdest tonight, at least."

Fred nodded earnestly. He turned and looked over at Gogo again. "Write it down," he ordered.

Tadashi wilted. He stared emptily at the house. "We're _not_ going to bother him again," he said weakly.

Fred was all in the version of spy-mode, though. "Just let me ask for the bathroom! Hiro could be in there somewhere!" he blustered.

Wasabi eyed him with this. "Fred," he growled. "Stop. Let Tadashi come to his own decisions."

Tadashi looked as if he was in physical pain. He grimaced, reaching up and rubbing at his forehead. The others just watched him, waiting. Fred seemed the most impatient of them all. Eventually Tadashi finally spoke, his voice weak. "Let's keep going," he said. "The rest of this part of the neighborhood. Let's go." He turned quickly, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He hunched his shoulders forward in a sense of remoteness.

The others exchanged awkward looks. Honey Lemon and Fred each looked back at Professor Callaghan's home. But eventually they were forced to follow. Still, even now, they did not want to push Tadashi. And even for Fred, who had never met Callaghan before, it probably wasn't wise to go pointing fingers _too_ openly. So they turned and followed their friend, letting him lead, however stricken he now seemed to be.

But Gogo stopped long enough to jot down the address, her own sense of suspicion and bemusement edging over her features.

It probably meant nothing. Just like this whole thing probably meant nothing.

But still…

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro was laying on his side, which was aching in pain from its constant contact with the wooden floor. But he didn't have the energy or the willpower to move or even shift into a more comfortable position. He just laid there, trying not to focus on the pain. It was easier than it would have been earlier, he realized. At the start of all of this, he had thought his injuries after being hit by the car were bad. Now he had his knife wounds to deal with— the constant stretching and pulling and pinching of burned skin that caused a sick feeling to congest in his stomach.

He groaned and closed his eyes, trying to staunch the sensation or at the very least block it out. But he was sidetracked from his efforts at the sound of footsteps coming down the steps. He cracked open his eyes and smiled tiredly as Nozomi rushed forward, throwing herself over and licking his face in excitement of seeing him. She had been gone for forever, and as she returned, that warm burst of relief and love blossomed back to life in his chest. He reached over with his good arm and stroked her with a sigh of contentment.

Robert came soon after, and he spoke up once he stopped over the boy. Hiro's smile immediately died on his lips, and he held a little bit tighter to his dog as the man's presence officially became unable to be ignored. "Hiro? It's Halloween, today; did you notice that?" Hiro didn't reply except for a quick shake of the head that came off frightened and small. There was a flash of heart wrenching pain in his eyes at the fact of the day. He had been here for so long…for so long…

"Well, it is!" Robert said affectionately. He leaned down to crouch in front of Hiro, who could not bright himself to meet his gaze. "It's our first one together! The first of many, I suppose." Hiro closed his eyes tightly and pushed his nose further into Nozomi's fur to stifle any noises of sorrow that could leak up in response. The dog replied by sitting down with a plop, sticking close beside her owner. "Hiro, I saved some candy for you," Callaghan said, his voice bright. "I got all of Abigail's most favorite kind. I just know you'll like it too."

Hiro didn't move at first.

Callaghan pushed, his voice a little bit colder. "Hiro. C'mon. Don't make me force you."

At the warning, Hiro forced himself to look up. He turned, his eyes falling on the small packet that Callaghan was holding. And his eyes widened a little bit at the familiar packaging. It was the packaging that he had been shown when he was very little. He remembered Aunt Cass' voice, gentle but stern at the same time. _'Don't ever eat these, alright?'_ she had asked. _'You can't have this. You're allergic. Do you know what that means?'_

He swallowed thickly. He curled up a little bit closer to himself, despite the pain that was inflicted on him in response. The gash on his leg pulled and stretched agonizingly, and it was an effort not to cry out. When he did speak, his voice quivered. "I'm not…I'm not supposed to have those," he whispered, looking at the Reese's with a sense of fear. Robert seemed confused, looking down at the candy as if it was a puzzle of some sort. Hiro grimaced and struggled to elaborate. "I'm…I'm allergic to…to peanut butter…" Not to mention that his stomach nearly heaved at just the prospect of something being put into it.

Callaghan pursed his lips. "Really?" It was clear by the look on his face that he thought Hiro was lying. The boy grimaced, and he eyed him carefully. "How allergic?" he asked.

Hiro should have lied. Deathly allergic. Just smelling it could make him die. But fear outweighed any sense he had. He replied quickly, for fear of anything else. And so he had no thought going into it. "They told me it was mild," he whimpered, trying to see how small he could get himself to be until the pain was too much to bear. "I haven't had any ever. I was tested for it."

Robert brightened. "Well, then, you might have outgrown it!" he reasoned. Hiro stilled, his heart dropping. "And who knows— you might just have to build up immunity to it!" Ignoring Hiro's small whimper in reply, he turned and started to unwrap the candy. "You'll love these! Abigail could eat these all day! And I saved a lot for you to do that too." Hiro watched with a heavy look as he extended the thing over to him. "It might take a few tries, but I've heard of kids getting over allergies with exposure. And if it's mild, then you'll be just fine."

"I would really rather not," Hiro whispered softly. When Callaghan's expression clouded over, the boy added, his voice weaker: "Please…I already feel sick…"

"A bit of candy will raise the spirits!" Robert pushed. "C'mon."

"I don't want to," Hiro cried, tears beginning to sting his eyes as the chocolate was pushed closer to him. He could smell the peanut butter already, and he hadn't even taken a bite yet. "Please don't make me."

Robert raised his eyebrows now. There was a growing sense of danger in the room, and Hiro was struggling not to take the warning to heart. He didn't know what would happen if he ate it. If he had even ever had peanuts, it was when he was too young to remember it. They had said it was mild, yes, but what did mild really entail? But Robert was growing impatient. "Hiro, I want you to have this," he said, making it clear that there was no other real alternative. "It was Abigail's favorite. So you have to. I'm sure that you'll love it."

Hiro flinched sharply. "Please…" he struggled. "Please, I could get hurt…"

"You won't get hurt," Callaghan said, his voice harsher. "Hiro. _Now_."

Hiro clung tighter to Nozomi. Nozomi, in turn, leaned over to lick him comfortingly. "No…"

Robert sighed, as if this was all some sort of big inconvenience. He shook his head and leaned over, grabbing hold of the simple collar that was around Nozomi's neck. Before Hiro could try and lock around her even more, the dog was wrenched away from him. Hiro immediately stiffened, his eyes widening and rounding out with horror. Nozomi yelped as she was pulled away, turning and trying to keep track of where her owner was. "H-Hey!" Hiro yelled, his voice rasping against his throat. He struggled to push himself up, but his head immediately reeled with the effort. "Stop!" he begged, his voice breaking and shattering. "Stop, don't—!"

"You cannot be rewarded if you do not behave," Callaghan snapped.

"No! Don't take her! Please! I don't want to be alone! Please don't take her, I love her!" Hiro wailed. He tried to get up to his feet, but the effort was immediately wasted. He could only watch, his shoulders heaving as Callaghan forced the dog up the steps. Tears rushed down Hiro's cheeks as the door was slammed shut behind the dog, and he curled up into a reclusive ball as Robert turned to storm back downstairs.

Once again, he stopped and crouched down in front of Hiro. And once again, he held out the circle of chocolate to the boy, waiting now with a scowl. "I won't ask again, Hiro." He was not playing anymore— not at all. He had warned Hiro earlier; it was the boy's choice now whether or not to take heed. Nothing that happened in response to his brash actions could now be pinned onto Robert. "You're going to eat this." His eyes flashed and he added in a darker tone of voice. "I saw your brother tonight."

Hiro stiffened, his chest immediately feeling as if fifty pounds had been shoved onto it.

Callaghan saw this and continued. "He came by. Trick-or-treating with his group of friends. I gave them all candy." He looked hard at the child. "You're lucky that that was all I did. Because you and I both know that I'm capable of doing much more." Hiro gritted his teeth and whimpered pitifully in the back of his throat. His stomach twisted into knots. "I didn't do anything to him – I haven't done anything to him – because I know that you will behave. But if you refuse to behave, I will have no choice but to rethink that course of action."

Hiro's lower lip quivered. "Please don't…"

"Well?" He extended the candy closer. The smell was making Hiro sick. "Eat it."

He ran out of options. Hiro reached out with his good arm and took the chocolate. Robert immediately brightened, and against himself, Hiro could feel a sense of relief. At least now, Tadashi would be safe. Hypothetically. Hiro eyed the candy for a long moment, hearing Aunt Cass' speech cross through his mind again as his heart twisted painfully. But he opened his mouth and ate it regardless. The taste was unfamiliar and foreign, and though Hiro used to always wish he could taste peanut butter chocolate, now he could only feel a sense of horror and dread.

Robert only watched with approval. "There! You see? That wasn't hard, was it?!"

Hiro didn't reply to it. Fighting not to grimace on the tang in his mouth, he mumbled softly: "I want Nozomi back."

Callaghan sighed in disappointment. He shook his head, as if to ask: 'What am I going to do with you?' He turned and started to stand up— Hiro realized with a jerk of shock that he was going to be left alone. He had been alone all day! The thought of even more isolation was enough to make him vomit. "No! W-Wait!" he spluttered. Robert hesitated, turning back and looking at him blandly. Hiro struggled to swallow down the chocolate, already feeling his nerves begin to sting and stand on end at the thought of being left behind. His voice came out in a small whimper. "I don't want to be alone. Please. Don't let me be alone. Please…"

Callaghan did not say anything in reply.

But a slow smile spread across his lips.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"I know, I know. Well, it's alright," Callaghan cooed gently, his hand making comforting circles on Hiro's back as he gently rocked the fragile boy. "It's not that bad. You see? You're fine. And then if you have more, the reaction will just get less and less noticeable." Hiro spluttered, his eyes closed tightly into a deep-set grimace as his shoulders shook with repressed sobs and wails.

After he had eaten the peanut butter chocolate, the reaction had been fast. His skin was red and irritated— hives were rampant across him, and they burned as if they were on fire. It wasn't making his knife gashes any better; scratching at his ripped arm only brought more agony to him, and the sensation was enough to make him gag and retch. His stomach was in knots, and his head was spinning even more than it had already been. The sheer frustration at the fact that he could do nothing for it burned almost as much as the hives did. He wanted to scream or tear off his skin or vomit up all of the peanut residue he had been forced to eat.

But he couldn't do any of that.

Callaghan held him close to his chest, and Hiro once again found that this was the only solace he could possibly have. Breaking out in bright-red hives and swelling sores, Hiro closed his eyes as tight as he could to try and block out anything and everything. He buried his head into Callaghan's chest, which helped to stifle the angry and pained sobs that were wrenched out of him every so often. And, like always, Callaghan was trying to comfort him. "It's alright," he shushed. "It's just a process. You're fine; it's just a little itching. It'll pass. Don't worry."

He leaned down and planted a kiss on top of Hiro's head. He continued to rub his back. "I love you. You're fine…everything's fine…everything's perfect…"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"I need you to identify him."

Tadashi perked, whirling around to face who had spoken. It was a man. A man that Tadashi knew all too well. His forehead creased in confusion, and he tilted his head to the side. "Identify who?" he asked. "I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

The man smiled. His eyes flashed with mirth, and there was a wide grin on his face. He turned and looked down, Tadashi just noticing the table in between them in that moment. "I need you to identify the body," the man pressed. "It's what we always have to do, isn't it? I thought you were supposed to be smart." The man leaned over and gestured to what was on the table, and Tadashi's eyes grew round with terror at what he saw.

Hiro was laying on his back, face-up towards the ceiling. He was exactly like Tadashi remembered. The same shaggy, unkempt hair. The same short stature. He was even wearing the last outfit that Tadashi had seen him in— his navy jacket and his shorts. The only thing that was different about him was the fact that he was not awake or aware. His eyes were closed, and he was completely oblivious to what was going on around him. In fact, as Tadashi looked at his baby brother, he realized that he was not breathing at all.

Hiro was dead.

Horror washed over him in a tidal wave. He began to hyperventilate, and he looked from his little brother, to the man that was standing across from him. The man was still smiling, his eyes bright with amusement as he grinned from ear-to-ear. Tadashi could not stop the panic from taking over him. "That's— is he dead!?" he all but screeched. He shook his head wildly, bending over and shaking Hiro as hard as he could. "He can't be! Hiro! Hiro, wake up!"

The man laughed, the chuckle sounding empty and hollow. "Oh, he's dead all right," he assured the panicking young man. Tadashi's head whipped up so that he could look at him. His eyes blazed with rage and sorrow, but this only made the man laugh even more, it seemed. The man shook his head almost carelessly. "I made sure of that," he promised, his voice sounding suddenly much deeper and menacing. Hiro was like a ragdoll in Tadashi's hands. He flopped listlessly, unable to be woken.

Tadashi crumbled, staggering under the weight of it all. He looked at the man, completely lost. His voice was broken and ragged when he whispered: "He was my baby brother…" Tears rushed into his eyes, and he repeated himself, strained now. "He was my baby brother…my little brother…and you killed him…"

The man kept laughing. The laughter seemed to echo around the entire room, surrounding Tadashi on all sides. "Oh, believe me!" the man chortled. " _I know_!"

Tadashi woke up with a jerk, in a cold sweat. His breathing was heavy and uneven, his heartbeat thrumming staccato-like in his ears. Panting, and trying to get himself under control, the young man pushed himself up into a sitting positon. He reached up and held his head gingerly, closing his eyes in a grimace. Nightmares had become common ever since Hiro had been taken, but…but nothing like this. Nothing even close to this.

It had all seemed so real. And so…eerie. The way that Hiro had looked, dead and lifeless on the table. The way he hadn't reacted at all to Tadashi's touches, even when they had been filled with panic. But, sitting now in the dark and noticeably-empty room, Tadashi knew that, strangely enough, that part of the dream was not the part that set him off the most.

No.

The part that lingered with him the most was the other person across from him.

The man that had laughed in his face and only smiled at his pain.

Because Tadashi had known them. There was no mistaking the face that had only leered at his agony.

It had been Professor Callaghan.

And for the life of him, Tadashi was afraid to understand the reason why it was _that_ face in particular that had been beside him.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: So I felt awful that I haven't updated when you guys gave me a BOATLOAD of feedback. But I've actually been here in Disney on vacation for Spring Break. I was writing in bursts, but in between me staying in the parks until midnight, and also trying to get this out, it was just taking too long. So I took this one night I had to go to bed _early_ to just bite the bullet and stay up typing. Hence why I am up at eleven pm in my hotel room.

Please know that I will always be struggling to get a chapter out around my busy schedule! The ten reviews thing is just a standard to know which stories are getting the most attention and which ones I need to focus on. I hope I do not offend anybody with it, but it is what I am sticking to. And honestly with all that I have on my plate, I think getting out twenty-page chapters like this one has been going _really_ awesomely on my part. Like…it's super hard, but I manage it pretty much weekly. Along with updating other stories at the same time.

Like I said, I took my only free night to stay up and type. If there are any typos, please be forgiving and understanding with me. I can go back and fix them hopefully if you point it out kindly. And as always, if there's any other issue I can have a pow-wow with people.

I really hate to give out numbers but so many people are worried… _two more chapters?_ Y'all just need to hang with me for two more chapters probably. If everything goes according to plan.

Anyway! I am tired and I really need to sleep. Normal updates should pick up again next week? As always, I would love to hear what you think now that things are starting to click! And I will see you as soon as possible! ;)


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: You all may rest easy. Karma has hit me _full-force_. I went ice skating yesterday, and when I woke up this morning, my lower back felt like it was being stabbed. I have currently spent the last four hours laying down on the couch immobile because whenever I get up and even take just a few steps, it feels like it's on fire. Hopefully it goes away soon, but Karma is being a little bit of a jerk right about now.

Disclaimer: There are a bunch of ways to play Heart and Soul on the piano. I chose the easiest way and the only way I know how to play it. I am not musically inclined via the piano.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

The world wasn't big. It was small. It was constricting, and it was choking, and it was _cruel_. Once upon a time, it had felt wide, and expansive, and free. It had once stretched from sky to sky— not from wall to wall. It had used to feel like anything could have been possible. That anything could be accomplished— whatever came to mind at all. The world used to be bright, not dark; in fact, it had used to be an array of colors and sensations. It had been absolutely _everything_.

But that had all been so long ago. Now Hiro knew the _truth_. He knew that everything else had just been a load of _crap_. The world wasn't big. Not anymore. It could not hold much happiness inside of it, and the small bursts that were allowed, could not be held for very long before the world ripped it away. Whatever the world had seemed to be before, Hiro knew it couldn't possibly be the same now. Not for him, anyway. There was just no way.

But the longer he stayed here, and the longer he stared emptily at the walls around him, the wallpaper engraving harshly into his memory…he couldn't help but doubt that the fact was true only for him.

 _Was_ the world really still expansive and all that it used to be? Did it really still continue on, on the other side of these walls? At this point, Hiro was nearly sure that such a thing could not be the case. Somehow, it must have all shrunk away, and it was logical to assume that right about now, it simply just did not exist. He could clearly envision that through the plaster of the walls, things just seeped away into dim blackness.

When he had first gotten here, he had ached and missed for everything that he had had before. He had spent hours and hours on end yearning for the little things he had been ripped away from. He'd missed playing video games, holding books, typing on a computer, working up blueprints, and much more. He'd missed Tadashi. He'd missed Aunt Cass. He'd missed Mochi, too. But now, when he thought of all of that, he just felt nauseas and sick.

Because he knew that regardless of how he felt, he couldn't get any of that back.

It was official now, and the thought was like a hollow ringing in his head.

He ached for everything else, but that was just the thing. There _was_ nothing else. He was stupid for thinking anything other than that.

There was just this hard floor. Just these dim walls. This lonely house. The only other person that existed now was Robert— that was the only other person who could provide physical touch, which had now been associated with comfort, just because there was no other option. That was it. That was all that was here today, and it would be all that would be here tomorrow, and it would be all that would be here the next day, and it would be like this the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that, and every other day after that one as well.

That was all that was here anymore.

There was nothing else.

 _Absolutely_ nothing else.

Not anymore.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Tadashi woke up, and the morning was cold. Every day it seemed to get colder and colder— the year was slowly expiring and so was the warmth that it had once fostered. Despite the fact that he was just waking up, and the sun was barely beginning to leak through the blinds, Tadashi's eyes were heavy, and his body seemed to creak with exhaustion. Ignoring the way he dragged, Tadashi pushed himself up into a sitting position, stifling a yawn in the process. The better part of himself chided him, and warned him not to. But it was a habit by this point, and so he turned and looked across the room at his brother's bed.

But it was just as empty as it was every day. It was just as untouched, and it was just as empty. Tadashi remembered how Hiro had used to sleep in nearly every morning; most days Aunt Cass was forced to drag him out into the sunlight by his ankles. The bed was usually slung around by the time they both woke up; Hiro had the awful habit of sleeping all over the place most nights. It wasn't like that anymore, though.

In fact, in just a couple of days, it will not have been like that for exactly one entire year.

Sorrow welled up to clench at Tadashi's chest, and it was the exact reason that he should not have looked over in that direction. Wearily, he slouched and heaved a sigh that seemed much too heavy for how soft it came across. He reached up and ran his hands through his hair, messing it up even more than it already was. He turned and started to drag himself out of bed. In reality, all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and stay underneath the covers. For…well, as long as he possibly could.

But he knew for a fact that if he did that, he would only make Aunt Cass more concerned. The last thing that he wanted right now was to make this whole situation worse. So he dragged himself out of bed and to his feet, and he threw on some clothes without even stopping to see if they match. Turning to go down the stairs, he stopped short one final time to look over his shoulder at his brother's bed. His stare weighed a hundred pounds as he looked at the blankets that were so neatly tucked. He looked at the pillows, which were perfectly arranged and fluffed accordingly.

He imagined Hiro sitting on top of his comforter, messing them up to the way that they were _supposed_ to be. He imagined the toothy grin his brother always aimed up at him. Hiro would smirk and raise his eyebrows slyly. _"Where are you off to today?"_ he would chirp, his voice only slightly tinged over with arrogance. Tadashi used to always try and bring himself to hate that certain degree of smugness, but now just the thought of it was enough to tear at his heart. _"You gonna go waste your time at that Nerd School?"_ Hiro would press. _"Have_ fun _!"_

Tadashi cringed deeply, as if someone had smacked him clear across the face. He realized that his eyes were burning and filling up with water. He tore his gaze away from the bed and turned for the stairs instead. He started down, his thoughts flying from one thing to another as he tried his best to keep from screaming. He hung his head and wiped at his eyes, grumbling a little bit as he made down for the kitchen.

He tried to decide what he should do. It had been what he was trying to do ever since Halloween night, and none of the other houses had turned out to be odd in the slightest. He hadn't slept a full night really, ever since Hiro had disappeared. But ever since Halloween, he would be lucky to get about fourn hours in total. It was taking a toll on him— his mind and his nerves were always frayed now, and his eyes sported dark circles underneath them. The bags were so dark by now, it looked like he'd been punched or slugged repeatedly.

He tried to push it away as best he could, deciding that now, during breakfast, there was no point in getting worked up. He and Aunt Cass had been suffering through silence ever since they had first realized that Hiro wasn't going to come back home in the short span of a few days. No. It had been about three-hundred and sixty-five. Their relationship was off and on. It just depended on the way Aunt Cass was feeling that day. When she was having a good day, they were as close as ever. When she wasn't, they could have been miles apart for all they acted.

What if today was a good day? They were getting sparser and sparser now that they were nearing a year. Tadashi didn't want to ruin that if he could help it…right?

Walking down the steps, he was starting to try and tear his mind away from Halloween night and focus instead on possible conversation topics he could struggle through during breakfast. He had to come in armed with such, unless he wanted to risk the possibility of thoughts drifting over to Hiro. However, once he made it about halfway down the steps, he stopped short, his forehead creasing a little bit as he realized that he could hear Aunt Cass already talking.

He leaned over at the waist a little bit, his eyes narrowing in puzzlement as he looked over to the kitchen. Sure enough, she was already up and standing there, her back to him. He saw that she was holding a phone up to her ear, and despite the fact that her voice was noticeably more hushed, he could hear her all the way from where he was lingering. He hesitated in walking down any further, deciding that for now he should stay where he was. He felt a small trace of guilt at the fact that he was eavesdropping. But even as he felt the sting of culpability, he did not make a move to right it. He just stayed rooted.

"Yes," Aunt Cass was saying, her voice definitely more deflated than it usually was. It sounded, to Tadashi, the way that she sounded on particularly darker days. The days where she typically lingered in the hallway to look at photos of Hiro, or went up to just stand blankly in his half of the room. Tadashi started to grow concerned, and he considered going down the rest of the way to see if she was alright. But she went on, and he blinked, his face beginning to fall as his legs didn't even budge. "And…and this isn't…this isn't anything…uncommon, then? I-I wouldn't really know."

Tadashi tilted his head to the side.

She tried to offer a laugh to the person on the other end, but it sounded thin and fake. "I just…we don't want to wait anymore. That is— that is, we're still _thinking_ about it. But…but, um…well, I just thought it would be nice to get all the information on it. Just to…just to keep in the…well, in the back of our minds, you know?" There was another small pause. Tadashi's expression was creasing more and more in confusion. His eyes were clouded, and his lips were gradually pulling down into an uncertain frown as his aunt continued. "Yes, yes, I'll keep it in mind, certainly. I think…it's about that time. I think waiting…" Her voice clenched and hitched pathetically. "I don't think I can keep waiting for a body."

Tadashi stiffened, his eyes widening as he jerked backwards. Shock and horror chilled him right down to the bone. He wanted to burst into motion and fling himself down the steps and straight for Aunt Cass. But the surprise and the dawning realization rooted him to the spot. He couldn't move a single muscle. He could just stare, barely registering the fact that his jaw was slack and his mouth hung halfway open. Aunt Cass was oblivious, however. She just continued to talk to whoever was on the other end of the conversation. "…Thank you. Yes, I really appreciate it."

Another pause. This one seemed _far_ too long. Then there was one final sigh from Aunt Cass. "Right. Thank you very much. I'll…I'll get back in touch with you once things…well, once I think things over," she said lamely. She coughed to clear her throat before her voice could sound any worse than it already was. Only then did she give out her final words. "Thank you. …Right. Yes. Goodbye. And thank you again." She hung up the phone and fell still, her back remaining to Tadashi as she stared down at the counter. She was as still as a statue.

She turned around, looking as if she was about to make for the oven. But before she could start making up some food, she stopped short and froze. She caught sight of Tadashi and went stiff, her eyes flying wide when they clashed with her nephew's. Tadashi was still standing on the steps where he'd first stopped. His expression was shocked, yet when Aunt Cass just stared at him, not saying anything, it slowly soured. "What was that about?" he asked, the words coming out soft.

It was clear that she was coming up with nothing to say. She looked like a deer in headlights, just taking to staring at Tadashi, completely stricken. Her jaw moved awkwardly, as if she was trying to get something out. But she was mute, in the end. Silence stretched in between them, and Tadashi reluctantly walked down the rest of the stairs. Each step he took seemed to echo and bounce off the walls. It seemed like an age before he spoke again, cutting through the silence like a knife. He looked at his aunt, hardly able to believe what was happening. If what he _thought_ was happening was _really_ what was taking place. "What _was_ that?" he repeated, more forceful this time. When Aunt Cass just stared at him, he pressed: "Who were you talking to?"

Eventually she managed to speak, though her words sounded as if she was forced to spit out each one. "I just…I just thought it would be a good idea to call them," she croaked. Tadashi's eyes narrowed slightly, and his lips settled down into a thinly-pressed line. His hands curled into fists at his sides. It was all he could do to keep himself silent, and Aunt Cass seemed to grasp this. She shook her head quickly and took a small step forward. "I just think that it's…I think that it might be time…"

"Time for what?" Tadashi's voice was clipped short. His expression was barely holding back anger by this point.

Aunt Cass winced. She cleared her throat again and tried to continue. By this point, Tadashi could see that tears were starting to bead up in her eyes. But still, it didn't staunch the growing sense of anger and betrayal that was welling up in Tadashi's chest. Aunt Cass swallowed thickly and looked down, studying the floor underneath her. Each individual word of hers trembled like leaves in the wind. "I think…I just think that…maybe if we would have a funeral, then—" She broke off, cringing as the word passed over her tongue. But she struggled to finish regardless. "Then maybe we could move on," she choked, her voice fragile and shattering in on itself. "We could…maybe we could be _happy_...again…"

"You're planning a _funeral_?" Tadashi asked in barely a whisper. His hands were shaking by this point. He took in a sharp breath and tried to ignore how weak it sounded when he spoke. Aunt Cass grimaced, and her lower lip started to shake. Yet, at the same time, so was Tadashi's. He took a step closer to his aunt. "You can't." His voice was dull and flat with the objection. "You can't do that. You can't. We're not. That's giving up on him. And we can't do that." He sounded near crazy with his persistence.

She closed her eyes tightly. "I can't take this anymore, Tadashi," she whispered. "I can't take the silence, and the waiting, and the sleepless nights, and the _wondering_!" Again, she had to choke back a swallow. She reached up and rubbed at her eyes quickly. Tadashi looked on, his gaze empty and hollow. He was breathing a bit unevenly, his fingers curling and uncurling in a fashion that showed barely-contained restlessness. "If we just…if we just have a _funeral_ for him…maybe we can move on."

" _Move on_?" Tadashi repeated in a rasp. " _Move on?_ Move on from _Hiro_!? You told me you didn't mean it, Aunt Cass! You told me you didn't mean it when you said that!"

She took in a hiccupping breath. "I haven't done anything more than talk to them. I've just gotten the information. But Tadashi, you have to _realize_ that it's not healthy to keep waiting like this." She sniffed, grimacing and shaking her head as if to clear it. "It's been a year, and I know that you don't want to admit it, baby, but by this point, you can't just think that anything else is going to happen." She looked at him fully in the face now. Her face was flushed and tears were streaming from her eyes. "I don't want him to be dead either. I want him to be here. I want him to be sitting right _there_ right _now_!" She turned and jabbed a finger almost accusingly to the third chair at the table— the one that had been empty for about twelve months now.

"So _don't_ give _up_ on him," Tadashi hissed through gritted teeth. He was trembling all over now.

Her lips quivered. Her arm dropped back down to her side, and she grimaced deeply, as if he had punched her in the stomach. "Tadashi, there's _no choice_ anymore!" she blurted out, ducking her head with the cry. "We don't have a choice, don't you _get_ that?!" she sobbed. "It's November ninth! We have less than a week, and it'll have been a year!" Tadashi looked away with this, silently fuming. Aunt Cass weakened a little bit but struggled forward. "A whole year." Her voice absolutely broke with the time. She had to hold back a remorseful whimper, but she did reach up to rub her eyes again. "He's been gone for a whole year, Tadashi, and he's _not_ coming back." Her shoulders shook and she sniffed. She lowered her head— in defeat. Her next words came out in a shivering sigh. "He's gone. He's just— my little baby's gone. And he's not going to come back."

Tadashi's throat was burning; it was on fire. "You _can't_ give up on him. He might still be—" He stopped, cutting himself off and jerking backwards. Words failed him entirely. He wasn't even sure where he had been going with that line of thought. It had slipped off of his tongue before he could stop it. Now, his mind was spluttering— rushing back and forth to try and recollect itself. What had he been about to say? Halloween flashed once more in the back of his mind, and again he felt that same sense of cold terror and suspicion.

She looked back over at him, her gaze nearly stabbing him with its intensity. Tadashi could feel his own eyes beginning to burn and stream, but he kept the idea more hidden than his aunt was with hers. Neither of them spoke for a long while. Aunt Cass just stared at her nephew, and her nephew just stared back at her. A pin dropping could start up a sound that would be equivalent to an atomic bomb. "What?" Aunt Cass asked in barely a rasp. She rubbed at her eyes again and sniffed. "What?" she repeated. "What were you going to stay?"

He looked at her, his mouth hanging open. He fumbled for something to say. And he knew that it was on the tip of his tongue. He could feel it there, branding his taste buds with a name that, he knew, if he spoke aloud, would permanently scar him. His breathing was hitching, and his hands wouldn't stop shaking. The weight was on his shoulders, and for a heartbeat or more that seemed like an age, he thought he would crumble. Blackness edged around his vision, and he heaved for air that did not seem to fill his lungs. In the back of his mind he could hear _his_ voice echo forward. ' _But I think for now you should let him go on. Lashing out, or micromanaging, will only make it worse_.' Professor Callaghan's advice slapped him in the face. ' _Don't worry Tadashi. He'll realize that he needs to do the right thing; just give him time_.'

Had he…had he really…but then…if that…?

He was going to be sick.

Oh, God…

Aunt Cass' face fell. She tilted her head to the side and took a step closer. "Tadashi?" she asked, her voice wilted and weak. Tadashi was staring down at the floor, his eyes wide and his pupils blown out in terror and panic. He reached up, fumbling as he tried to remember where he was and what was going on. But the truth was, he wasn't even sure anymore. He wasn't sure what was real and what wasn't. What was up and down? What was right and wrong?

"Tadashi?" she pressed carefully. "Tadashi, what's wrong?"

He reeled, turning and look around the room as if he had never seen it before.

"Tadashi, answer me!" she snapped. "I know you're upset but you _have_ to _talk_ to—"

He didn't wait. He turned and he left. He nearly sprinted for the door, he was in such a rush. Aunt Cass stumbled to the side, her eyes round and stricken as she turned and watched him with frank astonishment. She opened her mouth and started to shout out for her nephew to come back to her. But it was too late. Before she could get anything out, the front door was shut harshly. She grimaced, flinching away from the rough slam that seemed to bounce off the walls.

She was completely alone. And she was completely confused.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Do you _have_ to leave?" Hiro whimpered, his voice barely audible.

"Unfortunately," Callaghan answered, his voice laden with regret. The two of them were curled up on the wood flooring of the basement; they've been there that way for about an hour now. The place used to be pitch black, but it was gradually getting just the tiniest bit lighter— eventually Callaghan would leave, just like he did all the time. The thought was enough to slice Hiro apart in deep-rooted fear. Now, he was curled up into as tight a ball as he could, with the pain and stiffness in his back. His good arm was folded back to his chest, and his hand was fisted into Robert's shirt in a display of desperation. His head was buried away, and he could not get any closer to the man if he even wanted to.

At the confirmation, Hiro closed his eyes tightly, unable to stifle a terrified snivel. His shoulders shook, and immediately Callaghan reacted to rest his chin on top of the child's head. He rubbed Hiro's back in soothing circles, shushing him as gently as humanly possible. Hiro sniffed, a deep-set grimace settling over his exhausted face as he tried to shove down the sense of panic that came across at the thought of being alone once more. It ate at his brain and dragged him down into a sea of nothing but horror and abuse. He didn't want to be alone. He wanted the touch of someone— _anyone_.

He didn't want to be alone. He needed to remind himself that there was _something_ else. He _needed_ Callaghan there to hold him and anchor him in at least some form of sanity. The thought of Callaghan leaving and Hiro being left behind was absolutely horrifying. His lower lip trembled, and he took in a quick breath that scraped against his throat. His words were muffled, since his head was buried down into Robert's shirt. But they came out regardless. "Can't you stay?" he whined.

Callaghan pulled back a little bit, shifting so that he could look down at Hiro fully. Hiro did not look up to meet the stare at first, and so Callaghan reached out and forced his chin up. Hiro grimaced a little as he was moved, but he knew better than to pull away or react. If he reacted, then Callaghan would get angry. If Callaghan got angry, then he would get up and he would leave Hiro even quicker, and that was the last thing that he wanted right now.

So he was limp and let Callaghan force him up. He swallowed and tried to stuff down his sense of fear, his hands curling a bit tighter into Robert's shirt. The man searched the child thoroughly, a tender smile slowly spreading across his face as he looked at the boy. He ran his hand slowly through the boy's hair, which he had just freshly cut the other day. It was back just as short and cropped as it had been before, so Callaghan continuously drew his fingers through the strands. Callaghan was silent for a long stretch of time, just petting Hiro as if he was a dog.

Then he reached down, moving so that he could hold the charm of Hiro's necklace— the two intertwined circles. He dragged his thumb gently over the pair, his expression only softening more. He seemed to be engrossed in thought, but if he _was_ thinking, he wasn't about to say whatever was on his mind. He just leaned over and planted a gentle kiss on top of Hiro's head; at the contact, Hiro's mind swam with images of Aunt Cass and Tadashi, and he felt a mixture of deep sorrow and shaking relief. He let out a shivering breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

Once the kiss was over, Callaghan let out a small sigh, letting go of the necklace and threading his fingers through Hiro's hair jut a few more times. "I've got to go," he said, the regret coloring the space around them by now. Hiro wilted, still refusing to let go of him. However, Robert started to move away regardless. "I'll be back tonight. But I'll miss you."

Hiro tried to cling on, but it wasn't worth it. Callaghan grabbed hold of his wrists and pulled, separating the two of them with a pop. Hiro watched, listless on the wooden floor as a grimace hung down over his face. Robert turned and started to leave, and he could not keep himself silent any longer. His jittering fear was multiplying far too quickly to remain in control of himself. He curled again, as far as his body would allow him to. While he would much rather prefer to curl up so tight that he was reduced to nothing at all, his back would not arch very far, and his bad leg stuck out awkwardly still.

"W-Wait!" he yelped, flinching harshly. Callaghan stopped short and looked down at him expectantly. Hiro's voice was nothing more than a mouse's. It was barely a whimper in itself. "I don't want to be alone." He sounded like a broken record, now. It felt like that was the only thing he ever said, and yet, by this point, it was one of the only things that he feared so viciously. His voice was weak and pathetic, but he somehow managed to force out the words that had been locked behind his teeth for ages. "W-Where's…where's Nozomi?" he squeaked, his muscles taut with worry and stress.

There was a small gap of silence, and the air seemed to thicken and weigh a million pounds. Hiro choked back a swallow, and he felt the now-familiar sting of tears bleach his eyes. It felt like he was always crying now, but fear did a lot to a person. Callaghan's voice was noticeably harder when he responded. "What was that?" he asked. It was clear by the tone he used that he was waiting for Hiro to take it back. Or at the very least try and backtrack or show some regret for the question.

Hiro grimaced. His hands clenched together tight, and he swallowed hard again. He felt the tears continue to well up in his eyes, and he knew that it wouldn't be very long at all before the water overflowed. He breathed out quickly, and tried not to let himself become too overwhelmed. Finding it harder than it should be, he coughed in the back of his throat to try and make it easier on himself. "It's just…it's been a while, and…" He cringed, trying not to look up and meet Callaghan's gaze, which he could feel burning through him. "It's been…days, and I just…I want her back, and…I want to know if you would...could you please…?"

Callaghan took the few steps back over to Hiro. The boy immediately shut up once the distance was decreased. Robert's eyes narrowed slightly and he knelt down so that he was back near the other's level. His words were frosty. "Hiro," he pressed, seeing that the boy went stiff at the clipped sound of his name. Instilling it all even further, Callaghan leaned a bit closer. "I want you to think about what you just said." Hiro sniffed, wiping at his eyes roughly with the back of his left arm. "And I want you to answer me: is that something that _Abigail_ would have said?"

Hiro didn't reply. He was trying to hide the fact that his hands were shaking violently.

Callaghan just insisted: "Hiro. I want you to answer me."

Hiro closed his eyes as tight as he possibly could. He sniffed and he felt tears warm at his cheeks. Waveringly, he replied with a whispered: "No."

"No, _what_?"

"No, that's not something Abigail would say," Hiro replied in a weak mewl.

"And what does that mean?" Callaghan encouraged, the question brittle.

"It means that I shouldn't say it," Hiro whimpered, talking lowly. "That I was stupid. I didn't mean it, I promise." When Callaghan just continued to stare at him, his fear only increased and layered upon itself. His eyes stung even more, and his breathing hitched as he gave another harsh inhale. "I'm not going to say anything like that again. I'll be good. I'll be like Abigail."

Callaghan raised his eyebrows just slightly. "And why should you do that?" he prompted.

Hiro whimpered softly. But he replied nevertheless. "Because I am her," he whispered. "I am her and I shouldn't say anything that she wouldn't say. Because I've got to be as good as her." He closed his eyes, trying to keep his breath level enough. He struggled to hide as much of his fright as he could, though the feat was getting harder and harder as time when on. "I can't be stupid, like I am. I'm sorry— I was stupid, I was stupid. Please don't be angry."

He fell silent, shaking uneasily. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek, his nerves frayed and fizzling out. He waited for Robert to speak, his joints locked together and his muscles burned and ached from being so rigid with shock. He thought he would go insane from the silence, and he was almost relieved when it was shattered. Almost. "That's right," Callaghan sighed, leaning over to draw his hand through Hiro's hair yet again. Hiro let out a breath of relief, immediately sagging underneath the touch. Callaghan smiled, his eyes going as soft as a pillow. "It's so good to see you coming around," he murmured, love kindling in the back of his voice. "Maybe you can move back upstairs soon. If you continue to act as well as this."

Hiro didn't say anything. He sniffled, wiping again at his face. He stayed mute.

Callaghan leaned down and kissed his forehead once more.

Then he turned and left, starting up the stairs and for the door.

Hiro watched him, his eyes beginning to glisten and glaze over with terror as Robert vanished from the basement.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

There was a long gap of silence. It pounded against Tadashi's eardrums, and breathing around it was near impossible. He had been staring off emptily into space for the past age, it seemed. Though he did not break his staring contest with the window, his left leg bounced up and down restlessly, displaying a prominent sign of anxiety. Finally, he couldn't take it any longer. The question blurted itself out, and he was powerless against it. "What did _you_ think of him?"

At first, there was no reply at all. His breathing a little more rushed than normal, Tadashi spun around in his chair, his expression near desperate as he looked over at the robot currently standing five yards away from him. Baymax blinked slowly, perking at the question though predictably taking his time to analyze it. Yet even with the noticeable effort of the machine to go through the inner analytics of the question, it was still lost on him. He just tilted his head to the side and blinked. "What did I think of who, Tadashi?" he asked. Immediately, he picked up on the way the other's shoulders sagged, and how his stature deflated. "I do not know who you are referring to, therefore I cannot answer your question to pass any judgement."

Tadashi reached up and rubbed his forehead. His expression was pinched tight. He sighed wearily and shook his head, hunching over at the waist to look down at the floor. "The man that came in here during the summer," he reminded, his voice laden down and heavy. "He quizzed you over your knowledge about medical procedures?" Baymax straightened, and he blinked once more. Tadashi went on, not even able to feel the slightest bit accomplished at his robot's now-steady maneuvering. They had gotten past that a long time ago. Now there were just _other_ problems to fix. "His name is Professor Callaghan. I want…I want to know what you thought of him."

Thankfully enough, now Baymax seemed to realize. "Professor Callaghan's blood type was AB negative. He weighed approximately 178 pounds. He—"

"I'm not asking about things like that, Baymax," Tadashi sighed, knowing that he should have been more specific with the robot, but only able to feel a spark of irritation. Though he knew that the irritation was not aimed at his creation. It was aimed at everything else— at him, at his friends, at Halloween, at this whole situation, at…at… "I want you to tell me how you thought he was as a _person_." The words were starting to stick to his throat, and so he took in a slow breath before continuing weakly. "Do you see what I'm requesting?" Baymax blinked, not replying. He sighed and tried again. "I'm asking for what you observed about him that might not have something to do with a medical aspect. Do you understand? Just…as a person. I want to know how you _perceived_ him."

Baymax still seemed confused. "I am not inclined to pass any critical judgement," he replied, picking up on the huff of anger that came from his creator. "Medical professionals should not harbor any sort of bias or pass verdict on those who they are in charge of treating. It could interfere with the level of care that they provide, or it may cloud their awareness and cause them to make rash and, oftentimes detrimental, decisions."

"I'm just asking for this one time, Baymax," Tadashi pressed. He got up from his chair now, looking at the robot with a stare that could send the whole place up in flames. "I just want what you thought. You're not going to be treating Professor Callaghan— right? So it's perfectly fine for you to tell me something like this." There was a gap of silence, in which the pair just stared at one another. Tadashi sighed and grimaced, shaking his head quickly and taking a few steps closer as he turned to pleading. "Please, Baymax, I need to know. You could be helping someone else by helping me with this." His voice tightened with this.

Baymax blinked slowly. "You are very stressed, Tadashi," he said. Once again, Tadashi could only feel a heated sense of anger towards the developments. Over the past few months, Baymax was getting better and better at functioning and applying himself to certain situations. This was not the first clear-cut conversation the two had had, and Tadashi was gradually smoothing out the bumps of everything and making sure that Baymax was…well, Baymax. They were already testing actually going through with medical procedures.

But suddenly, Tadashi didn't know the point of all this work anymore.

He didn't see the point in spending so much time and effort on a robot whose design was to help people…if he could not even help the person he was closest to in this entire world.

His creation continued, going through those same motions. "You should lie down and rest, in order to soothe yourself. Otherwise, you could work yourself up into a panic attack. If this occurs, you could become subjected to things such as shortness of breath, chest pain, discomfort, sweating, nausea, trembling—"

"Baymax, please just answer the question," Tadashi hissed out, cutting the robot off med-lecture. Baymax blinked, clearly having not been expecting the interruption. It had never happened before. But before now, Tadashi had been able to control himself. Little by little, with each passing day, these doubts and this confusion ate away at whatever fort he had managed to build around himself. Now it was crumbling, and no matter how hard he tried to hold up the walls, it didn't make a difference. It all came tumbling down anyway. _What if he really_ does _have Hiro? The screaming…she said she heard screaming. What if…what if…?_ "Please answer me. In terms of mood and attitude. What did you think of Professor Callaghan?" Tadashi asked, speaking very slowly now.

For a heartbeat or more, Baymax just stared at him. Completely silent. Tadashi was almost afraid that he wouldn't say anything at all. But eventually he finally brought himself to, and Tadashi listened earnestly, hanging onto every word. "Professor Callaghan's heart rate was far above that of normal levels," the robot reported. "He held himself in a way that expressed signs of stress or anxiety, as you often do yourself." Tadashi's hands curled tightly at his sides. "He seemed on-edge and worried. I detected a noticeable change in his demeanor when he asked about instructions to deal with a knife wound. In relation to his other two questions, his heart rate spiked to dangerously-high levels, and his body posture became slightly stiffer." Tadashi's eyes slowly widened. "His breathing was slightly irregular, which could stem from multiple things, but the most likely being that he had just finished running."

Tadashi did not say anything. He was mute, just looking at his robot with a desolate stare.

Baymax blinked and tried his best to conform to what his creator seemed to desire. "If you would like to know what I think of him, I predict that he is at risk of heart disease later on in his future." The robot was trying; that much could probably be said. "He is not in the best physical shape, to be winded so easily. He could possibly require more physical activity. Less stress in his life could lead him to have a slower heart rate, as well. He would be much better off relying on positive lifestyle changes rather than keeping the habits he holds now." When Tadashi did not speak, Baymax said: "I fail to see how this is helping anyone else. Would you like me to go and tell Professor Callaghan of my findings?" Still, Tadashi didn't say anything. "Tadashi? Would you like me to speak with him?"

Tadashi didn't say anything. He just looked at Baymax with huge eyes, his mouth hanging open.

"Tadashi? Is this what you wanted to hear?"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

 _You're_ so _worthless._

 _You're_ pathetic _._

 _Absolutely_ disgusting _._

 _I'm_ glad _you're gone._

 _You were the worst nephew anyone could_ ever _have._

 _Why couldn't you have just died when you ripped open your arm?_

 _Why can't you just be more like_ me _? It's an improvement._

 _You're_ never _getting out of here. There is_ nothing _to go_ back _to._

 _I hate you. I've hated you ever since we were_ kids.

 _It's a good thing your parents are dead. At least that means they don't have to_ see _you._

 _God, you are such a stupid piece of_ shit _._

Hiro was curled up in the tightest fetal positon he could possibly manage. He head was ducked down low, and his shoulders heaved and jerked with hyperventilating breaths. His good arm was raised up and folded back over his mouth. His eyes screwed tightly shut, Hiro sobbed hard into his elbow, which helped to smother most of the heartbreaking cries. It was too many voices in his head at once to keep track of, yet at the same time, he heard each and every one of them. They rained down on him like blows, and he could do nothing but suffer in the isolation and the darkness of the basement, trembling from head to toe as he waited for it all to pass.

Though he knew that it wouldn't happen. That none of this would stop until Callaghan came back. Until Hiro would break down like he always did and beg to be held because that was the only thing that stopped all of this, no matter how disgusted with himself he felt in the meantime. Usually he had been able to cling to Nozomi, and the whole thing would not be as bad. But now he was completely alone, and therefore he could do nothing but cry and cry and cry and cry and wish for it all to be over. He could only wish for Robert to come back so he could hold him close and, for the briefest of moments, shelter him from all of this. He could only wish for any sort of break in the mental strain and agony he was currently being dragged through.

He could only wish that when he had had that knife in his hands, he had cut his throat and not his arm.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He knocked on the door three times and waited, his eyes slightly narrowed.

Sure enough, the door opened, and the boy straightened up as his eyes clashed with those of the man across the threshold. Professor Callaghan blinked rapidly, surprise flaring across his face. "Well, I didn't expect to see you back here," he noted, a little awkwardly given the situation. The other didn't say anything, and so he took in a small breath before he continued. "It's certainly a surprise. Though I regret to say that I've forgotten your name." As if to make up for this he added: "But I do remember your costume."

Fred stuffed his hands into his pockets, this time holding no tolerance for flattery. He just leaned back a little bit into his hips, clearing his throat with a small cough. "I was down here in the neighborhood— I think I dropped my cellphone somewhere, and I've been looking for it for the past, like, ever." He let out a sigh but then backtracked. "Anyway, I really need to go to the bathroom." He looked up at the man very closely, gauging the reaction that would arise in turn of the request. He was slightly disappointed that he just blinked once. "I know that you're friends with Tadashi, so I figured that if I asked you it would be less awkward than asking some random person, right?"

There was a moment of consideration, in which Fred continued to look closely at the man, eagerly awaiting the reply that would be given. However, when it came, it was much less than satisfactory. "Well…I don't really know you." Fred leaned back a little bit more, his expression sharpening somewhat now as he realized he was being rejected. _Right_. "And I am right in the middle of company being over at the moment. But I'm sure that if you go over next door, Mrs. Shelts would let you use hers. She's never too busy to offer a helping hand."

Fred surveyed him with a sour expression. "You're not going to let me use your bathroom for like five seconds?" he asked. "Haven't you ever had an emergency, man?"

Professor Callaghan offered him a tight smile. "I really have to get back to my guests," he said. Fred deflated angrily. He tilted his head to the side a little bit, to see whether or not he could glimpse or maybe hear some people in the background. But his view was blocked by the teacher, and if he _did_ have guests over, they must have been the quietest house party in existence. Still, Callaghan was not planning to change his mind. "Tell Tadashi I said 'hello.'"

Fred opened his mouth to try one last time, but the door was shut on him before he got the chance. For a long stretch of time, he just stared at the wood in front of him, blank and not really too sure on what he was supposed to do from that point on. He turned and looked on either side of the house, at the windows that were there. A pang went through his chest as he realized that the blinds were tightly drawn. Had they been drawn like that on Halloween, too?

He turned and walked down the front steps, his hands still buried into his pockets glumly. He threw a few glances over his shoulder as he walked, but he did turn and go back the way he'd come. He walked down the entire street until he turned the corner, which was decorated in fancy-looking bushes and shrubs and flowers. And in the small batch of vegetation, he found his friends exactly where he had left them. Gogo was laying on the grass, looking up darkly at the clouds that had shrouded the sky overhead. Wasabi was pacing, drawing a little bit more attention to himself. Honey Lemon was sitting on the ground, her legs tucked up tight to her chest. And beside her, Tadashi was sitting, his head ducked down into his knees as he covered it with his arms.

Everyone but Tadashi instantly perked once Fred came back. Honey Lemon glanced worriedly over to Tadashi, but Gogo was the first to speak. "What happened?" she demanded, turning and getting up to her feet. Wasabi stopped in his pacing but just turned to round on Fred instead. It wasn't all that comforting, and Fred felt a certain amount of disappointment at the story that he was about to break on them. But at the same time, he couldn't stifle the small niggling sense of satisfaction that it _had_ turned out exactly the way he'd thought it would have.

Fred shrugged. He shook his head and sighed. "He didn't let me in," he said.

Tadashi looked up with this, and Fred couldn't even look at his friend's expression full-on. Whatever satisfaction he had felt from him being proved right immediately died on the spot. Tadashi looked absolutely ruined— his eyes were wide and pained, and his mouth hung slightly open. It looked like someone had just killed a puppy right in front of him. He didn't say anything, he just stared up at Fred with that unchanging look of remorse and terror.

"He didn't let you in at all?" Wasabi demanded.

"He said that he didn't know me and that he had people over," Fred huffed. "I tried to see whether or not that was true, but I couldn't see around him. And all the windows were shut up— every single one." He glanced over at Tadashi, his expression slightly wary as he added a little softer: "He asked me to tell you hello, though."

Tadashi went stiff. Again, Honey Lemon glanced at him with concern.

"Well?" Gogo asked, clearly more than impatient. "Did you get _anything_? What do you think? Is he the guy?" Tadashi curled up closer to himself, his gaze crowding in panicked thought as he listened numbly. "Did you see anything suspicious? We can't go to the police because he wouldn't let you use his bathroom— that's not enough."

"No, not really," Fred sighed, getting more tired by the second as he realized that they were still going in circles. Well— that wasn't exactly true. They were getting somewhere in terms of their suspicion. But that didn't really go very far, logistically. None of them were experts on anything, and so far the police had been less than helpful. Would anything even _happen_ if they went to them with this? "The house was pretty dark. I couldn't see much around him." He turned and looking over his shoulder, down the way he had come home. "I was kind of hoping that dog would shove him to the side like she kind of did on Halloween. But…she didn't even bark. She might not even be there anymore."

Gogo gritted her teeth so hard her head ached. She had been reluctant to believe in this whole thing in the first place— she had told herself it probably wasn't anything important. But seeing how fast Tadashi had gone downhill ever since that night, just the mere thought of Professor Callaghan being the one to blame was fuel to her easily-inflamed nerves. Her friend used to be the life of the group— the one that was always smiling or laughing or making things okay. Now he was always silent and tired; ever since August it seemed like he was permanently attending a funeral for his little brother, never able to leave or shake off his grief.

She still wasn't sure whether or not this whole thing was instrumented by Professor Callaghan. But so far, he was their prime suspect. So he was bearing the brunt of her anger and her bitterness. Really, there was nothing else left to do but sink into the same sorrow and regret that Tadashi had. But they were his friends. Each and every one of them would die before they gave up hope and just helped Tadashi fall further into that trap of misery. The second they all gave up would be the second this whole thing became real and unable to be avoided.

"What do we do now?" Gogo demanded, the question coming across harsh and biting. Nobody answered her at first, and she pushed on harder. "We have to figure out _something_. It's been a year, and I know that I speak for all of us when I say that we're sick of all of this." Honey Lemon nodded, her expression wilting. "We need to find out where Hiro is. We need to find out what happened to him. I'm sure as hell not going to be satisfied with anything less." She waited for someone to support her. But her friends just stared at her. Tadashi continued to stare blankly forward. "Well? Aren't we all on the same page? We've got to find him. Whatever the consequences— whatever we find out. We just need to get to him."

Wasabi was recovering a smile now. He gave an assured nod. "Yeah," he said, determination battling down his panic. "We've got a duty to him." He turned and looked over at Tadashi, his eyes searching his friend almost pleadingly. "And we've got a duty to Tadashi too. And Aunt Cass. I know we do." Tadashi stirred, turning and looking up at Wasabi. His eyes were wide and daunted— Wasabi could see that they were redder than normal, and water ringed their edges. "Hey. It'll be okay. Alright?" Tadashi swallowed hard. It looked like it caused him physical pain to do so. "We've got this. We're going to find him."

Tadashi's lower lip trembled. He stared at Wasabi for a very long moment, and as his eyes continued to fill up with water, Wasabi thought for a moment that it was just because he was so overcome with relief at the reassurance. But the brief hope was thrown away the moment that Tadashi spoke. His voice resembled a glass vase that had been thrown to the floor— all the vowels and all the syllables were reduced to shattered pieces. "I don't want it like this, though," he said, closing his eyes tightly and ducking down to press the heels of his hands into his forehead.

He sucked in a trembling gasp. Honey Lemon flinched, leaning over and trying to offer him help as she reached out to touch his shoulder gently. But he just continued to shake his head. Fred wilted, listening to his friend go on with difficulty as he dropped down to sit on the grass. "I don't want it like this," Tadashi closed his eyes, struggling to speak clearly though his voice was thick and ragged. "I just want Hiro back. I don't want…" He grimaced, starting to burn with embarrassment and shame as he felt his friends' stares stab through him. He struggled to get himself to make sense. But that just it right now— none of it made sense anymore. "I don't want any of this…I didn't want anything like this…"

Honey Lemon grimaced. "We're sorry, Tadashi," she murmured gently. "We know…it's awful…"

There was a long period of silence. Nobody seemed to know what to do from this point on. If there were things – logical things – that they could go on to do in order to get to the bottom of this, then they would. But at the moment, they weren't able to think of a single one. Going on with this – with this specific situation – seemed as impossible as transporting automatically to the moon. There was a chasm in front of them, and if they jumped over to the other side, there was absolutely no going back. What would be done would be done.

So for the moment, they just stayed put. Wasabi and Gogo both stood, flashing one another doubtful looks. Fred was sitting on the ground, cross-legged, his expression sorrowful now as his satisfaction was completely killed. Honey Lemon rubbed Tadashi's shoulder slowly, sorrowful as she watched her friend break down. His head was still ducked into his knees, and every so often he took in a hitching breath. Nobody spoke.

Tadashi did after a few aging minutes. But it was only to repeat himself weakly. "I didn't want it to be like this…"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"See, you just put your fingers on the keys, like this. It's not too hard. And then you just play the bouncing tune like I showed you. You play C twice, E once, and then G." Callaghan demonstrated this, his expression kind and excited as he played the small rhythm. He'd brought down the electronic keyboard just a few minutes ago, and he was currently teaching Hiro how to play one of Abigail's favorite songs on the piano. Hiro listened quietly, watching intently as Callaghan then moved to play the next part— playing A twice, then E, then C. "You just do the same rhythm down here, just like I do." Again, he repeated the same thing. With F twice, then A, then C. "Then G, B, and D." He finished the small song, pleased as the bouncing notes came to the end of them.

It sounded cute. And light. It sounded…like something Hiro had gone ages without hearing.

A tender smile spread over his face as he listened to the notes.

Callaghan turned and looked down at him, absolutely thrilled with the child's growing grin. "You think you could do it?" he asked. Hiro seemed a little bit uncertain with the inquiry, his smile fading slightly. Seeing this, and anxious for anything but, Callaghan rushed on to add: "Don't worry. It might take a few tries, but it's very easy. Someone as smart as you— you'll get it in a jiffy. Go ahead and try it. It just repeats over and over again."

Hiro didn't say anything. But he reached out with his good arm and rested his fingers lightly over the piano keys. He hesitated briefly before he swallowed and started to mimic what Robert had done. His fingers hesitated— it was hard to get out the rhythm with the way that his hands were shaking and trembling. But he did so regardless, albeit with slight difficulty. He did the rhythm of those three notes, the first one always repeated. He started to regain his smile as the music filled up the room a second time. It was bouncing and beautiful and it made him feel like everything was a little bit brighter.

"There you go!" Robert cheered, ecstatic once Hiro began to get the hang of it as he repeated the small rhythm in a loop. Hiro seemed to be even more revived with the encouragement. His fingers stayed on the keys, but he stopped playing, just staring down at the piano with that same grin. He turned and beamed up at Callaghan, flushed with sudden happiness. "And here; you just play that in the background, and then I play the main part here. We play it together that way. Abigail and I loved to do this together when she was your age. And she would sing along to it. I just knew you would be able to play it! And you can play it so well, too!"

Hiro ducked back down to look at the piano. The grin was stretching from ear to ear now.

"Here," Callaghan said, softer as he reached out to put his fingers into place on the other set of keys. "Now you play the rhythm, and I'll join in. We'll do it together." Special emphasis was put on the last word, which oozed over with affection. Hiro swallowed a bit uneasily, but he nodded twice regardless. Callaghan chuckled softly with the affirmation, and the man turned back to the portable keyboard eagerly. He waited, and Hiro realized with a jolt that he was waiting for him to start. So Hiro inhaled quickly and began.

His hand still shook, but he went through it all anyway. His fingers bounced from note to note, and despite the fact that he used to abhor band class and all that was music, Hiro felt a swell of happiness at the growingly-familiar tune. His chest ached with the upbeat notes, and his grin was getting too big for his face. He'd heard it played before— everyone knew how to play this song on the piano. But he'd never learned it. He hadn't thought that it would be important. Now, he wondered how he could have been so stupid.

After he played through the rhythm twice, Callaghan joined in. They played together, the two tempos syncing up perfectly to make one unified song. Hiro laughed, thrilled as he kept up the background. He could see in the corner of his eye that Callaghan was glancing over at him, his eyes twinkling. And Hiro felt a strong rush of relief at the shine. It was much safer this way— it was much _better_. Hiro much rather preferred it like this. He felt happy like this. He felt safe like this. It wasn't every day that things were peaceful and perfect; but it _was_ getting more and more frequent.

Things were getting better.

When he wasn't alone, that was.

The whole thing started over once more. And when Callaghan started to play again, his words flashed in the back of Hiro's mind. The boy grinned and, in a rasping voice, he murmured along with the notes accordingly. " _Heart and soul…I fell in love with you. Heart and soul…the way a fool would do: madly…because you held me tight."_ He broke off, a small bubble of laughter managing to find its way out of his chest. It felt strange, because he hadn't done such a thing in so long. It was like stepping back into your own house after you've been away for so long. Or curling up under a blanket after you've been sitting in the cold for hours on end.

His eyes burned. But he kept on singing along, fueled by the sound of Callaghan's own laughter. " _Heart and soul…I begged to be adored. Lost control…and tumbled overboard, gladly…"_

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

The final bell rang. Callaghan smiled, watching his class as they stood up and started for the door. He had been smiling all day today— he was in a wonderful mood. He had been all week, really. It was apparent not only to him, but to all of his pupils as well. They'd had no homework at all, which was very out of sorts with this class in particular. But nobody was about to complain; it was a weight off their shoulders. They all chorused out similar goodbyes, and promises to see their teacher again on Monday. He returned each parting with one of his own, a smile spread across his face.

He turned and started to settle back down in his desk. He was going to try and wrap up grading and other work as quick as he could.

He wanted to get back home as soon as possible.

He sat down with a small sigh, turning and starting to delve into his students' latest reports. He could make a fair-sized dent in the stack before he left, he supposed. Yet he didn't have the time to get past the first paragraph of his first paper before there was in interruption. "Professor Callaghan." The man nearly jumped out of his skin; he hadn't been expecting the interjection, and he was lucky he didn't fall out of his chair. He'd thought everyone had left.

Looking up, he realized dismally that such a thing was not the case. He took in a slow breath before he recovered a smile. "Mister Hamada," he hummed. Tadashi was standing on the other side of Professor Callaghan's desk, his shoulders hunched as he looked at his teacher. He looked mournful, and for a long moment he just stared at him. His eyes were bleary and red— swollen, from past irritation. Callaghan surveyed all of this carefully, clearing his throat as he slowly continued. "Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked. "You seem upset."

He was still silent. He just stared at him, breathing unevenly. By now, Callaghan was slowly beginning to become concerned. He straighten up in his chair and folded his hands together. He disregarded the reports entirely, looking at his student instead. It looked as though Tadashi weighed a million pounds, and he was struggling to keep himself standing. He looked at Callaghan as if he had never seen him before in his life. Callaghan's face fell now, and his mind began to kick into overdrive. It began to reel and panic, and his voice was noticeably sharper when he asked next: "Is there something wrong, Tadashi?"

He closed his eyes tightly. The question was hurled out, as if it caused pain for him to speak it aloud. "Professor Callaghan, you're my friend, aren't you?"

Callaghan stilled briefly, he blinked a few times, his suspicion spiking. "I…I would assume us friends. Of course, Tadashi." There was a small pause before he asked: "Why are you asking? You seem troubled."

But Tadashi wasn't in the mood to stop and listen. He went on, just as forceful, nearly spitting each word out. "You wouldn't do anything to hurt me, would you?" He opened his eyes and managed to meet the other's gaze. His own was watering up— nearly overflowing. And his voice was strained when he continued. "You wouldn't hurt me— or my family, right?" Breathing quickly, he amended: "Because you're my friend, right? You're my— you're my favorite professor, and I just…" He trailed off, choking on whatever he was about to say.

Callaghan was nearly winded. His eyes were wide, and he could not hide his growing fear the longer Tadashi stared at him. He tried to come up with something that he could say in reply— something that would stop Tadashi from looking at him as if Callaghan had just stabbed him through. Because the stare was penetrating. The way that Tadashi stared, open-mouthed and absolutely numb. His entire face was colored a bright red, to match his eyes. "Tadashi, I have no clue what you're talking about," Callaghan managed, stuttering a little bit. Anything clever was wiped from his mind in the heat of the moment. "I—You must be confused. Let's— do you want to talk about something, or—?"

Tadashi reached up and ran his hands quickly through his hair. The movement was brash and not thought-out at all. His hat was knocked clear off his head in the process and fell down to hit the ground. He didn't even notice it, though. "I _need_ to know that it wasn't you!" he yelled out, Callaghan absolutely freezing at the sudden shout. His muscles went stiff, and he just stared, completely lost for words. His fingers were intertwined so tightly now that his knuckles had bleached completely white.

Tadashi whipped up to look at him again, heaving for air now as he looked at his teacher in absolute anguish. "I _need_ to know!" he cried, Callaghan just managing to blink rapidly even more. He was too stunned at the sudden change to speak. Everything had been going so well— this was something he was entirely unprepared for. Had he had a plan for this? In the moment, now, he could not remember. His mouth hung open, and he groped for words. He could feel them there, but he just could not drag them out to life. Tadashi pressed, too distressed to stop. "Because at this point, I _really_ can't tell anymore! And that _scares_ me!"

Silence. Tadashi waited, gasping. Eventually Callaghan managed to only thing he could. In a soft mumble, he rasped: "I—I have no idea what you're talking about…"

Tadashi stumbled a little bit, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. " _Please_ just look me in the eyes!" he pleaded sharply. "Look me in the eyes and _tell me_ that you have _no_ idea what happened to my baby brother!" he burst out.

Callaghan was rigid. It was a full minute before he replied. And when he did reply, he struggled to make his voice harder. He narrowed his eyes and tried to clear the fright and panic from his voice. Instead, he forced himself to be authoritative instead. "Are you accusing me?" he asked softly. Tadashi's eyes widened and his face froze over with shock now. He looked like he was about to say something, but it would not come out. Callaghan started to stand up from his desk, looking at Tadashi levelly. "Are you trying to say that… _I_ was…somehow _involved_ in Hiro's disappearance?"

Tadashi did nothing for a few seconds. He just blanched, taken aback. Callaghan looked hard at him, waiting for a reaction. But there was none left to give. Before Tadashi could have a chance to reply, the boy whipped around. He held tightly to the strap of his bag and rushed out the door and into the hallway. Callaghan cursed underneath his breath, turning and rushing after him. " _Tadashi_!" he yelled, leaning over the threshold just in time to see him sprint around the corner of the hall.

Callaghan cursed, louder this time. " _Tadashi_!" he screamed. " _Come_ back!"

But he didn't.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Gogo was trying to make dinner as fast as she could. She had a test to study for, and by this point, she was already looking at an all-nighter just to get everything finished. She shouldn't have stayed behind at school for so long, but she had been struggling to get the last few things done with her Robotics Project. Still, all that effort, and she was still nowhere with it. She grimaced at the reminder, rubbing at her forehead to try and calm her growing headache. It was getting to be absolutely splitting, and by this point she was entertaining the idea to just down about ten tablets of pain medication.

She was nearing the decision to go and get at least two, when all of a sudden the slam of a door made her leap up into the air. Her eyes flew wide at the sudden intrusion, and she whirled around to follow the sound. It wasn't everyone that had a spare key to her apartment— there were just four culprits it could possibly be. And sure enough, one of those culprits was currently barging into her home uninvited. Tadashi was bursting inside, looking half-asleep as he tripped over himself. He was holding his head in his hands, walking blind as he stumbled to the side.

Gogo was shocked to say the least. "Tadashi!?" she exclaimed, abandoning all thoughts of dinner now. "What in the world are you doing here!?" She tore herself away from the counter and started to rush over. He was trying to control himself, but Gogo could see that his eyes were streaming with tears. He reached up to try and bury his face away in his hands, but she was already well aware of his state. She stopped a few feet away from him, unsure of what was currently unfolding. "Tadashi, what's wrong!?" she snapped. "What are you _doing here_!?"

He still did not reply. And so she rushed on. "What happened?" she demanded, remembering back to a few days ago when he had mentioned the falling out he had had with Aunt Cass. "Is it about your aunt? With the funeral? Did something else happen?" It pained her to see her friend in such a state. The past month and half, it seemed, he was beaten-down and more than morose. But she had never seen him _this_ upset. He looked ready to come apart at the seams. So she struggled to sound more soothing. "Tadashi; calm down. Okay? You've got to talk to me."

"I think it's him!" Tadashi blustered, cutting her off.

Gogo stilled, a little confused. "W-What?" she asked, confused. "What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

He looked up, meeting her puzzled gaze with his own twisted one. He was shaking from head to toe, and he reached up to take hold of her shoulders— to keep himself as grounded and stable as he possibly could. Going by the expression he wore, it did not help him whatsoever. Despite this, he still held fast. "I think it's him," Tadashi repeated, each word shivering and slow. He shook his head from side to side. "I think it's Professor Callaghan."

She tilted her head to the side, a little concerned. "But…I thought that was…what was established? We just didn't have any proof to—"

"I asked him," Tadashi interrupted. Gogo blanched, her face clearing over in shock at the rebuttal.

"You…you _what_!?" she gasped. "How did you do that!?"

Tadashi's grip on her tightened. "I asked if he cared about me, and if he would ever hurt me. I asked him if he could promise me that he had no idea where Hiro was! He couldn't even get anything _out_ , Gogo!" Her expression was torn between being absolutely horrified and absolutely livid. "He just _stared_ at me! He just stared at me and didn't say a _single word_!" He sniffed, ducking his head with a sorrowful cringe. "You would think— you would think that he would immediately just start…just start _freaking out_ and saying _no_ , but…but he just _looked at me_!" He stared wildly, urging her to understand. "He looked _scared_! Like he _did_ know something!"

Gogo's eyes were huge and round, shining with too many emotions at once. She said nothing.

Tadashi struggled to hang onto her. He gasped, leaning over to press his forehead down against her right shoulder. She immediately moved to wrap her arms around him, trying to offer him as much comfort as she possibly could. Still, she was too caught off-guard to get anything out. But it was alright— Tadashi was still going on. "He didn't say anything— he just _stared_ at me." He sniffed, taking in a hiccupping breath of air. "A-And when he did say something, he was _angry_ — he wasn't _shocked_ or _upset_ like anyone else would be!"

She blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "We have to call someone." _Someone._ That was the best she could do at the moment. She disappointed even herself. Struggling to make up for it, she patted her friend's back gently, to offer condolence. She tried again. "We'll call someone. We will. We'll get to the bottom of this."

Tadashi exhaled shakily, the breath coming out more of a sob than anything else. He shook his head, practically unable to stop the motion. "I just can't believe it. I don't _want_ to believe it. I don't want to anything about it— I _haven't_ done anything about because once I do it's _done_! But what if— what if me _not_ doing anything about it is even _worse_!?" Gogo grimaced, unable to answer. "I don't know what to do! You have to help me! You have to help me figure out whether or not it's true! Because I can't stand this not knowing!"

"We will, Tadashi!" Gogo promised in a rush. "We will!" Her eyes narrowed now, and her jaw set backwards with angry determination. Her voice and her expression both got darker when she held tighter to him. "We'll find out, Tadashi, we all will," she vowed. She nodded once. Then promised: "Tonight."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: Once again, I am just forced to cut it off here. I'm so sorry, but if I stop here, then I would have gone on for twenty more pages. I have to keep everything organized, and I know that you guys are on-edge, but so am I. But I can't sacrifice the flow of story just to please everyone. I promise that as soon as I submit this chapter – the very _second_ I press post new chapter – I will go on and start writing chapter fifteen. I will try my absolute hardest to get out the next installment as soon as possible.

But I am very curious and excited to see all of your guys' thoughts on this chapter! As always, if there are any typo concerns or concerns in general, I would be pleased as punch to look over it.

I hope you're all very excited for chapter fifteen! I know I am! After all, I am currently hopping directly over to it to write it.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Here I am! Literally five seconds post last chapter!

And I Love You Always Forever by Donna Lewis is actually a wonderful song 10/10 would recommend.

My presence was requested by a guest with a hard day ahead of them tomorrow! I wish you the best of luck with all that holds in store for you, and I hope I'm not too late in getting this out tonight! :)

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

The police station was busy on a Friday night. There were people coming and going— some were concerned, some were irritated, some were frazzled, some were crying, but mostly they were just busy in general. Each officer had about a million things to do at the moment, and not nearly enough time to do even half of it. There was a certain level of tension in the air that came out of this fact, and it made the whole place seem small and cramped.

Sergeant Gerson was sitting behind the front counter of the police station. He was currently drafting up the latest reports that were needed to go through— documenting the details of some car accident that had happened just a short while ago. They were a common occurrence in the crowded city, and so it was nothing special at all to spend his time on. Once he was through with this report, he had about five similar ones to detail. Things like cash transactions, and a robbery that had taken place, and so on and so forth. It was a busy night ahead of him, surely. A busy but boring one at the same time.

They really needed to get a second hand to help him out here. He was drowning in all of this.

He let out a gusty sigh, shaking his head as he kept his fingers flying over the keyboard. Staring at the computer screen was straining his eyes, and sitting in his desk chair all day like he had was giving him a crick in his back. All the details combined together to account for the irritated scowl that seemed permanently fixated on his face.

One of the newest girls that had just been accepted in the force had joked with him just this morning, commenting that he had a 'RBF'. He had no idea what that was, and he was not amused in the slightest. Later on, when he had a small breather in between work, he had googled what that actually meant. He was still not amused in the slightest. He was probably even less so, if such a thing was even possible.

Currently, he was just trying to get through to the end of his shift. Which wasn't for hours, now. He was just surviving on coffee, and that was that, if he was being truthful. So around ten at night, he was really starting to nod off, or at the very least zone out. Which was why when there was a sudden clamor at the front door, he was jarred harshly back into attention. The entrance burst open and a large group stormed in— a group that was unfortunately all too familiar with the man that was sitting on the other side of the desk.

These people made a habit of visiting here. The group was comprised of Tadashi and Cass Hamada, who were the brother and the aunt of Hiro Hamada, who was still missing going on a year now. It wasn't anything uncommon. Even though cases where the child was not found after a year were uncommon in San Franksokyo, when kids _did_ go missing for a few days, the parents or guardians usually stuck around like glue to the place. So he couldn't really find _too_ much fault in that.

It was when the friends came along that got to bug him. Mostly because the ragtag group was a little less than pleasing to his headaches— rather, they were source of them. The black-haired girl was always aggressive with her demands to know exactly what was going on, and she usually made everything a bigger show than it had to be. The blonde girl was far too awkward whenever she stopped by— it took her about five minutes to ask a question, and it took all of the resolve that Sergeant Gerson had not to throw his computer to the ground. One of the boys got too off-track and usually stopped to ask about latest criminal activity in general, and last time the other boy had been here, he'd gotten onto Sergeant Gerson about the 'clutter' that made up his desk space.

Typically they each came separately to check in on any progress for Hiro. Well— Tadashi and Cass Hamada came together more often than not. But the friends were usually spaced out, thankfully enough. There had never been a time where all of them had come together, though, and to see such a thing, Sergeant Gerson had to stifle a heavy breath of resignation. It seemed like his night was not going to get any easier, whatsoever. He would need an extra shot of caffeine in his coffee to get through this.

He straightened a little bit in his chair, turning to look at the oncoming group, who were walking with noticeable quickness. They looked in a rush; but then again, they typically did. He took in a slow breath and started to turn, deciding that getting through this barrage of questioning wouldn't take long if he just embraced it. He felt bad that he knew for a fact that there was no other new information to give them— he would be the first to hear otherwise, if such a thing would be the case. But the point wasn't really up for debate. It was just all there was to it.

"Miss Hamada," he greeted in a small sigh, looking up at the woman to see that she was noticeably more strained and panicked than she usually looked. But that was probably to be expected, if he was being logical. It had been a year, after all. Her eyes were puffy and swollen, and her face was a bright red. The black-haired girl looked angry beyond belief, and the brother seemed to be on-edge as well. The other three were taking up the back, so Sergeant Gerson didn't have a chance to look at them before the front of the group took up arms at his desk. "I'm sorry to tell you that there's no news. I promised you would be the first person I called if anything new happened," he reminded, a little gently.

Cass Hamada clasped her hands together in front of her. Her lower lip trembled violently, and she glanced at her nephew, clearing her throat to try and make herself be able to be heard a bit better. "W-We actually need to talk to you," she whispered out. Sergeant Gerson had to lean forward just a bit in order to hear her properly. At her words he stilled a little bit, slightly surprised and confused at the odd phrasing. The woman took in a slow breath, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "We have— we have an idea where Hiro could be," she said, her voice sounding pathetic even to her as it came out.

Sergeant Gerson straightened a little bit, his tiredness as well as his report currently slipping his mind. His forehead creased over and he looked from one person to another. Tadashi was clearly more than upset, though he was trying his best to remain stony on the outside, unlike his aunt. His hands were curled into fists at his sides, and he was noticeably trying to keep his breathing regularized and steady. The black-haired girl glanced over at him, looking thoroughly pissed as she turned and crossed her arms over her chest. The blonde just looked worried and a little tearful, lost as she looked from her friend to the police officer.

"Well…" Sergeant Gerson wracked his brain, kicking it into motion after being so lethargic before now. Shaking off his drowsiness, the police officer turned away from the cluster of people, looking back to the bulletin board that was directly behind him. At the forefront of the board was still Hiro Hamada's missing poster— he had made sure that even as the board was filled up more and more, Hiro could still be seen. As uncaring as he was on the outside – or as the new recruit liked to call it: 'having a RBF' – he really was more than frustrated at the fact that this fourteen year old had still not been found. Technically, he would be sixteen in a few months, wherever he was.

And that was just assuming he was still alive.

He sighed, looking at the photo of the smiling child. He continued on, however carefully and with however much difficulty. "You see, I know it's a hard fact to face, but you've got to realize we can't just go pointing fingers at people. That's why we haven't gotten anyone yet; we can't just go around and barge into houses tearing up people's nights." He swiveled back over to the group, who still did not change in any way, shape, or form. They just stared at him in the exact same way that they'd come in. He continued, trying to drive it home. "Unless you've got some actual evidence other than you don't like the way the person looks at you in the morning before they've had their coffee…"

He meant it as a joke, to maybe lighten the mood. But it seemed to be permanently fixed. He frowned a little bit, clearing his throat as he straightened. "If it's something like that, I would suggest you keep a level head and remember what's actually going on. You should be very certain that you know what you're going to say in blame before you do anything like that," he said, noticing that Tadashi bit down hard on his lower lip with the warning. Noticing this, he went on. "Because we can't do anything if it's just a bad feeling between a few people. We've got to have good judgement— we've got to be objective and unbiased, however much you'd want to be anything but." He sighed lightly. "So my advice is to—"

"No." Sergeant Gerson turned at this, surprised as Hiro's brother spoke up. He still looked pinched and reserved, but his voice came out surprisingly clear. His hands were still clenched at his sides, and Gerson noticed that they shook a little bit. From nervousness? Or from something else? He couldn't tell. Eyeing the young man a little wearily, he waited for him to continue with whatever explanation he had prepared. Sure enough, he did.

Tadashi cleared his throat and ducked his head a little bit, reaching up to rub at his forehead, as if he was trying to shove away a sense of niggling pain. "No," he repeated, a bit louder now. His eyes seemed to gleam too harshly in the fluorescent lights of the building. Sergeant Gerson looked over to him in bemusement, and he shook his head. "It's not just a bad feeling," he pressed, his voice deflated, despite the fact that it brought with it the first real news in a year of his brother. He looked away, stuffing his hands down into his pockets deeply. He set his jaw backwards, as if he was holding in much more than he was letting actually show. "It's enough for probable cause."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro felt like he was going to be sick. He had been reduced into a fit of shaking and trembling hours ago, but as time stretched on, his seizes were getting worse and worse. His mind, left completely alone, was acting up as it always did now. It was tearing him apart and making him completely unable to keep sane and collected. His arms were around his midsection tightly. He dug his fingers down hard into the skin of his sides, as if he was trying to hold himself together.

His breathing was nothing more than hyperventilation by this point, and tears made his face and cheeks sticky and hot. He wasn't usually left alone _this_ long. Where was Callaghan!? Usually he was back by now, and he was there to hold him and make sure that he was okay. Hiro had no idea what time it was, but he knew that the basement was pitch black now. He couldn't see more than an inch or two in front of his face, but at the same time, he could feel the walls press in around him, making him feel claustrophobic and constricted. He couldn't breathe— his head was spinning, and he felt like he was about to get sick, or at the very least, he felt like he was going to scream.

Whimpering, and knowing that he would get in trouble if he did yell, Hiro instead reverted back to the position that was custom for him now. He curled up close, trying to offer himself comfort that he knew he could not give. His good arm folded back, and he pulled it tightly so that his mouth was effectively covered by the inside of his elbow. It muffled and stifled the sobs that burst out from Hiro's chest. He sniffed, closing his eyes tightly and trying to regularize the breaths in he took. But his body had stopped listening to him long ago. He didn't have any power at all— even over himself.

His mind was too scrambled to keep track of. He wasn't even sure that he was capable of coherent thought, by this point. All that he could know for sure was just severe panic and fright and sorrow and misery. That was all that made him up now, and any efforts to calm himself down were wasted. He just suffered through it, like he always did when he was alone. He sniffed and shook, trying to see the stairs through the dark to keep watch for Robert. Any second now, and he would come down for him. Any second, and then everything would stop.

Hiro reached up with his other arm, grimacing at the stretch in his skin in the process. He ducked his head down even further and dug his fingernails into his skull as hard as he possibly could. He was gasping in and out for air, finding that it no amount of gaping seemed to help calm him down. Struggling not to focus on anything else too hard, for fear of falling into the trap of having his mind conjure those mental blames and abuses, he struggled to recall anything else that he could think of— anything else to let his heart maybe stop beating as fast or as hard.

His face creased over in panic and pain, and he still dug down into his own head. But against his elbow, his words chipped and frayed at the edges, Hiro shakily began to whisper out one of the songs that Callaghan had taught him— one of the songs that had been Abigail's favorite. Maybe…maybe thinking of her old song and singing it aloud would help distract himself from his smothering fear. Or maybe it would just stop that voice in his head from calling him stupid and worthless. Because…after all, he was like Abigail through this. Not like himself.

The words were almost incoherent. They were mostly lost in his panic and fear, but the fact that his arm was still pressed crushingly to his mouth did not help either. But he didn't have to be heard; he just had to try and find _some_ sort of outlet. He needed _something._ If it could not be Callaghan to hold him and tell him that things would be okay, this would just be the next best thing. So he settled for it, realizing that he had nothing left.

Slowly rocking himself back and forth to the melody that he could recall, Hiro sang softly against the inside of his elbow. " _I love you…always forever. Near and far— closer together. Everywhere, I will be with you. Everything, I will do for you..._ " He gasped in an uneasy breath, and when he struggled senselessly on, his voice was clenched tighter in pain, heightening about an octave. " _Say you'll love, love me forever. Never stop, never whatever. Near and far and always, and everywhere and everything…"_

However, he couldn't sing much more before he broke down. He curled inward and sniffed, pulling his arm even tighter down on his mouth to cover up the wails that he could not contain anymore. His shoulders heaved with the effort. He just wanted Robert back. Where was he!? He had been gone much longer than he was usually, and by now Hiro was starting to wonder what he would do if he just never came home. The thought sent him down into another fit of muddled sobs and cries. He thought of what it would be like to just be alone forever, trapped down here because he couldn't get himself to move or function anymore. It was all he could do to keep himself together right here, laying down on the wood flooring of the basement.

Time passed and it felt like two lifetimes. But finally, Hiro went stiff at the sound of the door opening and closing upstairs. His heart leapt up into his throat, and he immediately looked up for the staircase, freezing. There was a flurry of footsteps, and without warning, the lights were flipped on. Hiro hissed, flinching away from the light that exploded against his eyes. Waves of pain slammed into his head. Callaghan hardly ever turned on the lights down here— they never really needed them. Hiro had gone so long with his eyes adjusted to darkness or dimness at the very least; he was unprepared for the glare of actual light.

Struggling to get past the initial burst of agony, Hiro could only get his eyes to be halfway open. He turned though, desperate at this point, and he let loose a heavy breath of air that signified only sheer happiness and relief. Callaghan was standing at the base of the stairs, unmoving as he looked over at the boy. Ignoring the way his arms shook and trembled with the effort, Hiro tried to push himself up to a sitting position, despite the fact that he had little to no energy stored to do so. He hadn't eaten for days upon days— he was never hungry anymore. And it showed in the way that his skin seemed to cling to his bones, making him even smaller than he actually was. By this point, his jacket, which had fit him perfectly when he had gotten here so long ago, was now baggy and hanging off of him like it was three sizes too big.

Nevertheless, a smile spread over his exhausted face. A spark lit in his teary eyes, and his voice was a little hoarse when he spoke. "Y-You're back!" he rasped, only managing to get out a small mumble. Callaghan didn't say anything; he just stared at Hiro, his lips pressed tightly together. Hiro's smile wavered a little bit at the silence, and his shoulders drooped. He gave up on the effort to get off of the floor. He just resigned himself to dropping back down with a dull thud, staring up at Callaghan with a pathetic expression. "Where were you?" he whimpered. "I-…I missed you."

Still, Callaghan didn't move at all.

Hiro was aching by this point, unable to stop himself from pushing. He was still shaking from head to toe, and now, with Callaghan across from him, he finally had a chance to put his torture to an end. …Right? "I need you," he whined, pulling away from his elbow just a little bit, so that he could be heard. But he did not lower it all the way. Somehow, he couldn't tell why that was the case. Tears burned at his eyes as he looked over at Robert, and when the other _still_ had no reaction, Hiro was close to falling back into hyperventilation all over again. He scrambled, as if trying to drag himself closer across the floor. "Can— can you hold me?" he asked brashly, unable to keep the question inside any longer. Knowing that he would not last much longer without it, he went so far as to add: "Please? Dad?"

 _You're disgusting._

 _I can't believe you've stooped this low._

 _You are absolutely_ nothing _._

 _He's not moving for you. See?_ Nobody _could love you._

Hiro whimpered, ducking his head as he cringed away from the hisses in the back of his mind.

Only then did Callaghan speak up. And when he did, his voice was frigid and curt. Hiro stiffened at once, recognizing the tone as anger. As barely-held rage. "What did you do?" The question was slow and purposeful. It was heavy and it kicked Hiro square in the stomach. His eyes went wide, and he looked up at Robert, too confused to get anything out. He just looked blankly up at him, as if he didn't even speak the same language. So Callaghan took a few steps closer, his strides thudding loudly against the ground. His eyes were narrowed, and Hiro was quickly succumbing back into that panicked rhythm of gasping. "What did you _do_ , Hiro?" he spat.

"'D-Do?'" Hiro yelped, curling up even tighter in his fetal position, despite the back that screamed through his back. For all of his shaking, he could have very well been having a seizure. "I-I-I did—didn't do a-a-anything," he stammered, horror layering on him with every step closer that Callaghan took. Tears welled in his eyes, and he drew back as if he had some turtle shell to take refuge in. But tragically, he was just as vulnerable either way— it didn't matter. "I didn't do anything— I swear. I-I have no i-idea what you're talking about," he squeaked.

"No, no, _no_! Don't you _dare_ play dumb with me!" Callaghan screamed, Hiro immediately crying out at the sudden raise in volume. Robert was standing over him now, towering like a building. His expression was dark, and now that he was closer, Hiro realized that he reeked of alcohol. His heart plummeted, and he fell into a fit of frightened sobs, pulling his elbow back tightly over his mouth to stop them from being too noticeable.

Seething, Robert glowered down at the boy with fury. When Hiro could not bring himself to look up and meet the other's stare, he jerked down, grabbing hold of the boy's bad arm and jerking him up to sit. Hiro barely withheld a scream from the harsh tug, the noise coming out as a pathetic gag. His eyes filled over with water, and his lower lip trembled as Callaghan forced him to look him in the face. The man's eyes were absolutely blistering with fury, and he hardly looked able to talk around it. Again, the nauseating stench of alcohol turned over Hiro's weak stomach.

"You said something!" Callaghan snarled, jerking Hiro again so that they were nearly nose-to-nose. In response, Hiro gave out a stifled scream, his confusion and his fright just breaking him down even more. "You said something to him! You did _something_!" When there was still no confessional from Hiro, Callaghan jerked and threw him down to the ground. The boy's head hit against the floor with a dull thud, and his vision exploded in white. His glasses nearly fell off with the force. " _Tell_ me what you _did_!" Callaghan screeched. "You _stupid, ungrateful little_ —"

"I didn't do anything!" he wailed. His head was pounding and throbbing. It felt like he was going to vomit earlier, then he was two seconds from doing that now. He couldn't even tell which way was up or down— the room was spinning much too quickly. "I really don't know what you mean!" His arm felt like it had nearly been ripped out of its socket. He sniffed and struggled to push on, though his voice was nothing more than a squeaking whimper. "I really don't, I really don't, I really don't!" he rambled. "Please stop— please—"

"You're lying through your _teeth_ ," Callaghan snarled, his words slurring together sloppily. He leaned closer, grabbing Hiro's shoulder and wrenching him around so that he could not hide away. Hiro's face was frozen in horror— his chest was heaving up and down far too quickly, and because of this, he could not take in even half the amount of air that was needed to keep his head from reeling. Callaghan just glared down at him, though. His grip on the child was enough to crush his brittle bones. "I'm going to give you _one_ more chance," he snarled. "Tell the truth. _Now_."

Hiro just stared, petrified. He didn't say anything, yet his lips trembled as tears rushed down his face.

This was enough to make Callaghan snap. He shook his head, fuming at the sign that he apparently took as guilt in his warped mind. Hiro froze, realizing that silence might not the best way to go. Though he was trembling from head to toe, surely he had to at least _try_ something? But he did not get the chance. As soon as he started to open his mouth, Callaghan's arm reared backward, and he snapped it forward to deliver a punch hard enough to scatter Hiro's mind entirely.

His head was thrown to the side, his eyes turning glazed and foggy. Callaghan looked down at him furiously, his own gaze a little unfocused thanks to the drinks that he had probably had. And before he could stop himself to think rationally of the situation, he repeated the blow, throwing another punch that, this time, was delivered with enough force to completely knock off Hiro's glasses. Hiro yelped and gagged, but Callaghan lost control of himself in that brief moment. Cognitive thought went out the window, and all that was left in place of it was rage and anger.

He continued to throw his fist down into Hiro's face, raining blow after blow. At first Hiro struggled to do something in retaliation to the punches, in the hope to try and spare himself the increasing sense of agony. But his efforts to escape were barely there in the first place, and they quickly died away. Eventually he just gave up, collapsing into a fit of incoherent sobs and whimpers as Robert continued to repeat and repeat the action of throwing his fist into Hiro's face.

It stretched on for ages, it seemed. It stretched on until Callaghan's arms grew tired, and he faintly realized that there was a heavy wetness on his knuckles. His fist was stained with blood, yet Hiro's face was even more so. Callaghan was left winded and heaving for air by the time he was through, his arm stinging from exertion as he doubled over a little at the waist. Hiro's head was turned slack against the floor, his expression numbed over as every inch of it blistered and stung in pain. His left eye was swelling shut, and his cheek was split open and bleeding. There were already appearances of bruises starting to mar his skin gruesomely, and he could taste the metallic tang of blood swelling up to fill his mouth and coat his tongue.

Callaghan leaned closer, bending over the boy to growl out: "Tell me what you did." Hiro just rasped unevenly, fighting unconsciousness by this point. Robert cursed under his breath and grabbed the boy's chin, wrenching his head around painfully so that he was looking up at him with his glassy eyes. "Your brother was asking questions after school. He _knew_ something was wrong!" Hiro went rigid at this, his eyes widening as his pupils blew out wide. Callaghan just seemed to get angrier at the reaction. He scowled and pressed on, his voice venomous. "He was asking about you. To _me_. Asking what I _knew_ about you. So you'd better tell me right this _second_ what you did to let him on!"

Hiro opened his mouth to say something, but he just ended up coughing instead, hacking weakly as he felt blood drip down from the edge of his mouth. Callaghan muttered curse words underneath his breath, pushing himself abruptly to his feet as he fumed. He turned, making for the staircase again, his footsteps coming out as harsh thuds against the wood. Hiro turned groggily, unable to see clearly as it was thanks to the fact that his glasses were gone. His vision was blurred and all he could see was a mismatch of colors and shapes. But the blackness that was threatening to slam over him wasn't helping in his efforts to grasp the situation whatsoever.

Callaghan leaned over and fetched something on the ground. Then he turned and came back. Hiro watched, wanting nothing more than to scuttle backwards like a frightened animal. But he was too engrossed in his pain to even try to move. So when Callaghan came over and stooped down, grabbing Hiro's glasses and shoving them quickly back to their rightful place, the boy didn't even move. He felt a small twinge of relief at the fact he could see again, but the relief was very short-lived once Callaghan reached out to show Hiro the thing that he was holding.

At first, Hiro was just confused as to what it meant. And later, that sense of initial confusion would just eat at him and make him feel even more disgusted and ashamed with himself. Because at first, he just registered the fact that Callaghan was holding out a hat. Some baseball cap that only brought Hiro confusion— not connection. But eventually, the realization dawned on him, and it was like he had gotten punched all over again. Because he knew that hat; he knew the logo, and he knew the shape and the color. It all rushed into him, and a strangled, heartbreaking noise, burst out from the bottom of his stomach. It sounded like he was dying.

Because it was Tadashi's hat. Hiro had seen his brother wear it more times than he could even fathom— Tadashi never took it off. Hiro used to always make fun of him for wearing it so often. To the movies, to the park, to class, to dinner. Hiro used to hide it places to watch his brother scramble to find it before he left for school. Or Hiro would always use to take it and put it on his head, only to have Tadashi storm over and swipe it away. That would always be when Tadashi was most angry. It would always blow over of course, because his brother never…well, he never _used_ to stay angry at him for long…

But now his brother's hat – the one he never really took off unless it was to sleep – was now in Robert's hands. Hiro's eyes widened and grew hollow and horrified. His body broke out into harsh tremors and shakes that threw him into convulsions. Callaghan dropped the hat down in front of him, and immediately Hiro scrambled to grab at it. Immediately, the touch nearly burned his fingers. It felt so familiar, and yet so foreign at the same time. It was a life that Hiro had lived, but centuries upon centuries ago. Another heart-shattering sob wrenched itself into being, and more tears gushed forward to fall down either side of his face. "What— what is— I don't—" Hiro slurred, babbling like an idiot as speaking caused more blood to leak down his chin.

He struggled, holding onto the brim for dear life. Gory images swelled to cram themselves into his mind. He thought of his brother, hurting and bleeding. Twisted and dead somewhere. Because that was what it was, wasn't it? The hat was anything but stable, since it was being held in his quivering hands. He thought of how mad Tadashi used to get when he swiped his hat away from him— how he used to snap and roll his eyes. Why else would Robert have this? Why else other than if…?

"No…" Hiro moaned, his voice shattering and caving in on itself. He gasped sharply, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a noise that someone would make if they got shot, or if they were bleeding out. As if they were being tortured or beaten senselessly, and all they could comprehend was agony and suffering. "No, no, no, nononononono!" he wept, his voice high and clenched. Callaghan watched, not fazed at all with the boy's reaction. He just looked on as Hiro sobbed and gagged, curling in around the hat like it was a beacon of safety. When really, it was anything but. " _Tadashi_!"

Callaghan listened to the boy grieve for nearly five whole minutes. Hiro was not letting up in the slightest. Even after five minutes passed, he was still thrown forward with his wailing and crying. His face was a sight to see— his open cheek was still bleeding and every so often his mouth would leak red as well. His bruises were becoming more accentuated with each passing second, and it was enough to grimace away from. However, Hiro didn't seem to care at all for himself. All of his attention was on Tadashi now, and the fact that, because of _him_ , he was dead. " _Tadashi_ , no!" he sobbed harshly. "Tadashi…" He fell into a whimper, barely scraping through his throat, which was now swollen and abused from crying. "No…I-I'm so sorry…"

Finally, Callaghan decided that enough was enough. He scowled and shook his head, leaning down and ripping the hat away from Hiro's fingers, which only escalated the child's sobbing. "Get up," he growled, his eyes narrowed into slits. They didn't have time to waste anymore. Hiro didn't react; he just reached up to gouge his fingernails down into his head. "Get up, Hiro," Callaghan repeated, his voice harsher with the added demand. Quickly, he stooped down, grabbing Hiro by the shoulders and jerking him up to his feet. "Hiro, we don't have time for this."

Hiro stumbled, his legs refusing to work for him as they remained absolutely limp. He dropped like dead weight, and Callaghan cursed as he was forced to compensate. By this point, Hiro was too groggy for stable thought. At first it was just because of his newfound pain, but now all chances of regaining himself was out the window entirely with the hat being shoved in his face. He was as listless as a ragdoll, and his breathing was fast and shallow. He floundered, trying to move closer to Callaghan awkwardly, groping and stumbling. He was shrouded in a thick of panic and fear. Callaghan growled, scowling deeply as he tried to ignore the efforts and just hold him up. "Hiro, stop it!" he snapped. "We've got to go! Stop it!"

"Please!" Hiro rasped, fighting to get closer to him with weak and inept motions. "Please hold me! Please, please!" For the way he spoke, his words rushing together and fracturing on his sore throat, he sounded completely insane. "Please— I need you to hold me! Please hold me, please! I need you! Please make me— you've got to help me feel better!" Callaghan's expression soured at Hiro's incessant pleads. Usually it would only make him thrilled and excited; but now, he could feel absolutely nothing. Not right now. Not after what happened with Tadashi.

"Stop it, Hiro, _stop_ it!" Callaghan snapped.

Hiro still didn't give up though. He struggled to pull himself closer, collapsing entirely as he gave up trying to make clear words. All that came out from him was series of high-bursting noises and wails that only conveyed sheer desperation. No matter how many times Callaghan tried to force him off, Hiro just ached to get closer. He _needed_ it now. He needed to be held and comforted and reassured that everything would be okay. He wanted to feel safe and this was the only way he knew how. So he _needed_ this. He _needed_ it.

But Callaghan didn't have the time. "Hiro, you're going to get into the car," he growled out. Hiro shook his head quickly, the sharp motion bringing a sick feeling to clog at his chest. "You're going to get into the car, and you're going to lay down, and you're going to wait for me. Do you _understand_?" he hissed.

Hiro kept shaking his head. "I can't— I can't— I need— don't leave me— please— I don't—"

Callaghan jerked Hiro harshly, struggling to jar the boy back into some sense. But it only seemed to make him worse when Hiro just wailed louder. He resigned to give him one last chance. He couldn't pack and get everything together when Hiro was fighting to be near him like he was. The boy was practically throwing himself at him. "Hiro, _stop_!" he yelled. "You need to calm down. _Stop_ moving, and get into the car! Do you understand me!? Stop it!"

Hiro's legs still wouldn't work. Nothing would, really. His mind was haywire, and his heart was thudding loudly against his chest. Without Callaghan there holding him up, he would have just collapsed to the ground again. Robert growled in the back of his throat, his eyes narrowing even further. They couldn't get anywhere like this. He couldn't have Hiro making any more noise— especially if he was to go into the car. Callaghan needed him silent and unmoving— he needed him to be able to disappear completely, so that Robert could focus and pack everything as quick as he could.

They needed to get out of here. They didn't need _this_.

His fuse was short and so he leaned over and dropped Hiro down on the ground, the boy hitting the floor once more with a thud. And quickly, not giving the mewling child any time at all to recover, Callaghan reached back and took something out from his pocket. He withdrew a small container— the same exact one that he had pulled out so long ago when he had first deposited Hiro in his car. Hiro was not coherent enough to recall the incident though; he could still hardly see more than five inches in front of his nose against the harsh light hitting his eyes.

Callaghan turned and shook out two tablets. Last time, the pills had worked to put Hiro out for more than seven hours. Now, when the child weighed even less, and when he was even sicker, the pills should work to put him out for much longer. With that amount of time, Callaghan would be able to get everything together, and Hiro would not draw attention to himself with his shouts and cries like he was now. So, spilling out those two pills into the palm of his hand, Callaghan leaned over and grabbed the back of Hiro's head, keeping it in place as he forced the two pills into his mouth.

Hiro was heaving, sucking in shallow breath after shallow breath through his nose. He floundered, his eyes widening in shock and panic as he felt the capsules against his tongue. But he couldn't spit them back out, however much he wanted to. Callaghan kept his hand clamed tightly over his mouth, to ensure that he couldn't do such a thing. "Swallow," he growled out, his voice harsh.

Hiro trembled, looking at Callaghan with a brokenhearted stare.

Callaghan locked his jaw backwards, his voice cutting as he spat: " _Now_."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro was dead weight. This time, the pills' effects came across much quicker than before. Hiro had fallen unconscious faster than Callaghan was even prepared to hope for. Robert was currently going out the back door, keeping close to the back of his house as he made for his car. His driveway wrapped neatly around his home, which left an easy and close way to get back to his car without the high chance of anyone seeing him. Once he did reach his car, started to open it, with difficulty given that Hiro was weighing down his arms. He was holding Hiro bridal-style; the boy's head was drooping backwards so that it was nearly touching his back. Juggling the boy and the car handle, he pulled open the door of the passenger side.

He turned and deposited Hiro down on the floor of the car. The child was limp, his eyes closed as if he was asleep. So it was easy to take him and force him down to fit underneath the dashboard at the foot of the seat. Robert pushed and arranged him quickly so that he was folded up into nearly nothing. He was skinny and small, and Callaghan felt a rush of relief at the fact that he was now barely noticeable. Once he shut the door, it would look like he wasn't even there.

He pulled back and made sure that Hiro could stay there by himself. Sure enough, he stayed in that same small heap. He was in a tight ball— his now-baggy jacket was more apparent at the moment than he was, really. Callaghan considered taking the coat off of Hiro to drape it _over_ him instead, so he would be covered from head to toe. It would make sense, certainly.

But the thought occurred that he didn't have enough time to do anything like that. He needed to turn and run— to gather up as much as he could before he drove out of here. His mind was sluggish, thanks to the drinks that he had gotten earlier to try and 'quell his nerves.' It took twice as long to think through something, and he wasn't clear enough to take precautionary measures. He just had to go, go, go.

So he abandoned Hiro for the moment. The child would stay put— it wasn't like he was going anywhere, right?

He turned and slammed the car door, and turned to rush back into the house.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

They were told to wait here. That the police would handle the case, and they could just wait for everything to carry out. Tadashi had been halfway through his story of what had happened with Professor Callaghan, when the police had received a phone call. A phone call that had put in a noise complaint for a house that matched the exact address that Tadashi had given Sergeant Gerson. The incoming call had stunned the group that had come in, but it stunned the police force even more. They all wasted no time whatsoever. They had been in such a rush to obtain a warrant and rush out the door, that Tadashi barely had time to stutter out the rest of his report. They were quick to act, and act they did.

But without them.

The group that had been waiting for Hiro to be found ever since November 14th, 2014, had been told that their coming along could be too dangerous. The police had no idea what they were supposed to expect— especially when Tadashi had been so outright with Callaghan to begin with. So currently, the six of them were waiting around the Police Station. Aunt Cass was pacing, her hands permanently tearing at her hair in frustration and shock. Gogo and Wasabi were trying to persuade the rest of them to take their minds off of things by going out to find the coffee machine that was rumored to be down the hall. Fred was trying to egg Tadashi into a conversation by trying to explain one of the plotlines of this new comic book he had. Honey Lemon was curled up glumly on a chair, her legs pressed to her chest as she put her chin down on her knees.

Tadashi was a little ways off from the rest, leaning against his side on the wall as he just stared blankly off into space. The only hint of emotion in his stony stare was the smallest shimmer of pain that resided in the very back of his eyes. Fred's efforts to get him talking were completely wasted; Tadashi wouldn't even look back at him.

It was completely silent.

Eventually Gogo spoke up, her voice a low grumble. "This is so stupid."

Wasabi sighed, reaching up to rub at his forehead. "It's protocol," he said wearily.

She was not deterred. "It's _stupid._ "

Wasabi glanced over at Tadashi. For once, he could not object. "Yeah…it's pretty stupid," he sighed.

There was another period of quiet. Honey Lemon's eyes flashed as she recalled every time that Tadashi had broken down in front of her. How many times had she seen him crying, or trying to make it seem like he hadn't _just_ been crying? How many times had he gone entire days without saying anything, or contributing to conversation? How much of _himself_ had he lost along with his baby brother?

Finally, she could not stand it. She turned and got up to her feet, turning and walking over to her friend standing against the wall. Instantly, she could tell that everyone was turning and watching her intently. But she didn't care— all she cared about was that Tadashi was _still_ suffering. That Aunt Cass was _still_ suffering. She glanced over to the front desk, but it was empty. She wasn't sure where Sergeant Gerson had gone. But she was anxious to finish all of this before he did come.

She cleared her throat and waited. Sure enough, Tadashi turned and glanced over at her, his eyes glistening and reddened. She raised her eyebrows, her expression narrowing into something of a stern stare. "Well?" she demanded, her hands going up to her hips. He didn't say anything, but she did notice that he seemed to straighten a little bit more. So she cleared her throat. "Are you just going to stand around here? You and Aunt Cass?"

He blinked. He turned and glanced over at the front door of the station, seeming confused. "They—" His voice cracked on him a little bit, so he had to cough and clear his throat before he could go on. "They told us it was too dangerous," he said lamely. "They told us that we all had to stay right here and wait."

She nodded once. "And that's what you're going to do?" she demanded. "You're just going to sit around? You _never_ just sit around. You _always_ do something. Or— at least, you _did_. And I don't see how that should be any different." Tadashi blinked, raising his eyebrows. He glanced over at Aunt Cass, who had stilled in her pacing by now. She seemed just as confused and shocked. Though her eyebrows were gradually pulling together. "Nobody's _watching_. And it's not like you know where they're heading; you've got the address. Right?"

Tadashi still seemed unsure. He blanched a little bit, slowly wrapping his mind around what she was meaning. "Well— y-yeah, but...the officers said that we shouldn't come along. That— that we should wait, and…" He trailed off, a frown slowly coming over his face. He seemed lost, as if he wasn't even sure what he was saying. Again, he turned and looked over to the entrance of the building. Then he turned and looked at Aunt Cass. She had stopped altogether by this point. Her eyes were wide, and her arms had gone down to her sides.

He pushed himself slowly back up to his feet. He blinked, and Honey Lemon realized with a rush of relief that his eyes were slowly beginning to spark with something other than sorrow. Though he still seemed a little lost. "I…can we?" he asked. "Can we just…walk out of here?"

Gogo was getting up to her feet now. "I don't see why not," she pressed. "Why _are_ we just sitting around? They can't force us to stay here!" She looked around to see that there weren't any officers close by, just in case such a thing would be the case. There wasn't any, though. She nodded and started closer, Wasabi perking and following her lead. "Let's go down there!" she snapped. "Why _shouldn't_ we, anyway!? Hiro is our friend!" She turned, pointing to Tadashi and Aunt Cass, respectively. "He's your _brother_ , he's your _nephew_! And he's been missing for _a year_! We're tired of sitting around!"

Aunt Cass glanced over at Tadashi, her eyes wide. Tadashi turned and looked at her as well, waiting for her consent. He knew that he could not leave without her— she wouldn't let him go ten yards without her there, after she had learned of what had happened between him and Professor Callaghan. She was stricken enough just being here— when he'd first talked to her, she was so shocked that he'd been afraid she would have fainted. The entire way to the station, she had held tightly to Tadashi's hand. And ever since they had first started waiting, she had consistently looked over at her remaining nephew, worry and concern flaring in her eyes.

He raised his eyebrows, looking at her imploringly. He was silent for a long stretch, before he asked, in the smallest of whispers: "…Aunt Cass…?"

She hesitated, glancing down at the ground. She bit down on her lower lip, gnawing it uneasily as a grimace creased itself over her face. The group waited with bated breath, watching her and tracking her every shift in mood. They realized that it was ultimately up to her as well, and so they were poised on whatever she would say in return. Tadashi was slowly deflating that longer she took to reply, worried that she would be too frightened to take the chance.

But after consideration she looked up, her arms folding across her chest tightly as her shoulders went rigid. Turning her gaze over to Tadashi, she took in a shivering breath, her expression unbelievably pained. But despite this, she gave a small nod, her eyes narrowing in a sense of determination. She gave a single nod, the gesture firm and resolved. "Okay," she said, the others immediately becoming enthused at her admission. She took in a quick breath, desperate as she walked over to take hold of Tadashi's right arm. She remembered how Tadashi never used to be alone— that wherever he had been, Hiro was close behind. At the thought, she held a bit tighter. "I want my baby back," she said, her voice flat. "And I'm tired of waiting."

Tadashi softened. He reached up and squeezed her hand bracingly.

Yet even as the group become fired up and started for the door, Aunt Cass could only feel a hollow sense of dread.

Dread that this would just be another dead end to run into— another time that they would just be left disappointed, and staring hollowly at one another under the realization that Hiro was still missing.

Some part of her didn't want this to be true— that Professor Callaghan really did have something to do with Hiro being gone. It was awful and unbelievable, and it would absolutely ruin Tadashi if the person he looked up to the most turned out to be as…awful as this. She would rather have anything other than the man who had comforted her during the candlelight vigil be the person who had torn her nephew away from her in the first place.

But by this point, she had no idea what she was going to do if it wasn't.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Callaghan was breathing harshly, throwing the last of his things together. He was taking much longer than he probably should, but he found that _talking_ about leaving this house was much easier than actually doing it. After all, he had lived here ever since Abigail had been born— her mother had lived in this house with him, before she'd died. This whole place was where his baby girl had grown up. Her first steps had been taken in front of the fireplace, and she had slid down that banister when she was seven years old. She used to love to make breakfast on weekends— she would always get the place so messy in the process. Abigail would always demand that the two of them curl up on the couch together and watch her favorite movies whenever she was upset. She had had her first kiss with Hikaru on the front step, after their dance. She had gone out that back door when she had left for college.

Two suitcases were packed by his feet. Abigail's…and his. He held her memory box tightly in his arms, stopping in the center of the living room as he just took to staring emptily around. He knew that he had to leave. If he wanted to keep Hiro, then he had no other choice but to leave San Fransokyo and go somewhere that other people weren't. Then they could truly be happy together. But still…this place was Abigail's. It was her home, and it was his. Now that he was leaving, it was smacking him in the face.

He looked down at the box. At his hand, which was still stained in red.

He turned and looked at the couch, his heart heavy.

That had been where she had sat him down, explaining the new opportunity that she had been given. How Alistair Krei of Krei Industries had offered her to be the lead pilot in testing the newest transportation breakthrough. She had been so ecstatic— so excited and happy at the prospect of her entire life stretching out before her just like she had wanted.

Just like she had wanted.

Just like she had _wanted_.

His expression crumbled, folding in on itself. He cursed harshly underneath his breath, closing his eyes and fighting the urge to fall apart. He couldn't fall apart— not right now. He had a job to do. This…this was his second chance. This was all that he had left of _anything_ , and he could not let it collapse now. Not when Hiro was just beginning to smile and laugh and feel like _she_ had. He had to pull this off. He _had_ to. However, whenever he did finally manage to turn away from the couch and start for the door, he found that such a thing was not an option. There was a sudden sound to slice through the silence of the home, and it froze him in his tracks immediately.

Sirens. Sirens that were getting closer.

His eyes widened out in horror, and his hold on the box tightened tenfold. Rooted in spot, he just stared, his scrambled mind going completely blank as panic came over him. No! No, no, no! This couldn't be happening! It couldn't! He waited, just in case the sirens weren't coming for him. Just in case they would miraculously pass by and go somewhere else.

But the exact opposite happened.

There was knocking. On the door.

At first he did absolutely nothing. He just stood stock-still and stared, his eyes bugging out of his head. He snapped back to himself, realizing that even though the sirens had stopped, the living room was now flashing blue and red, the lights managing to glint through underneath the drawn blinds. A freezing wave of terror came over him at the sight; he stiffened and went rigid. The knocking on the door repeated, louder this time. And Callaghan flinched as he heard a voice leak through the wood. "Police! Open up!"

He forgot how to breathe for a minute. He wasn't sure what he should do. Should he ignore them!? He couldn't get the suitcases in the car while also holding her box! Even though the car was still tucked behind the house, he would be caught the seconds that he started to pull out of the driveway! He needed a way to get everything out to the car without being noticed— a way to get out of here along with each piece of luggage. He needed _everything_. He needed as much he could take from this house. But at the same time…if he could not manage to get out the _most important_ thing away from here…

"We have a warrant to search your house!" the same voice yelled out. "We're coming from a noise complaint from your neighbor as well! Please open the door!"

Callaghan reeled. He turned and grabbed the suitcases, tugging them along and rushing the short distance to the laundry room. He shut that door and doubled back, starting towards the knock and struggling to take control over himself again. On the way, he glanced out the window, around the curtain. He looked at the end of his driveway, wondering whether he had the chance to get out and race away without being caught. But he went stiff as he realized that there was a police car parked straight across the exit of his driveway. There was no way out, unless he wanted to see how his car would fare with a hefty collision.

He pulled away and breathed out hard. He was stiff as a board for a few moments, looking from the left to the right, as if there would be some gleaming way out. But there wasn't one. _Just act natural_ , he told himself. _Act like nothing is wrong. They won't find anything. They won't. And then they'll leave. They can't arrest you if they can't find anything._ It would be okay. It would have to be. Because he didn't know what would happen if anything else was the case.

He turned. He walked over to the door and drew himself up. And then leaned over to answer the knocking. Sure enough, on the other side of the threshold was a band of about five police officers, none of whom looked at all happy. The one at the front, who had called out before, perked with Callaghan's willful answer. The woman clad in uniform cleared her throat. "Robert Callaghan, we've had a few complaints, and we have reason to suspect that you could be somehow connected to the Hiro Hamada disappearance case," she said, the man struggling to maintain a cool front. "I believe you've a right to know why we have come to search your house; regardless, if you would like to know more, we have a warrant to show for it." In her hand was a piece of paper, and she held it out for the other expectantly.

He didn't even glance at it. "Is this is because of what happened with my student earlier today?" he asked. She did not reply; she just held his gaze, her lips pressed tightly together. He saw two officers in the back turn to exchange a dubious look. "Trust me: that was just some misunderstanding. He starts accusing me out of the blue of somehow being _involved_ with the disappearance of his brother, and I was just too shocked to say anything. I was completely caught off-guard, and he mistook that as some sign of guilt." He shifted, his hands folded behind his back on account of the dried blood still smeared on his knuckles. Mentally, he was cursing anything and everything. "I didn't have a chance to call him back. I understand he's upset about his brother, but I never thought he would be this distraught to actually go to the police and accuse his own teacher."

"Sir, if you could please let us search your house," she said, as if he hadn't even said anything to begin with. "If what you're saying is true, and once we find nothing, then we will leave you alone. But until then, we do have the reasonable suspicion, and we do have the warrant to look around and get to the bottom of all this." She offered him the paper to read over if he wanted to, but he didn't. He just stepped to the side, his expression stony as his jaw locked backwards.

The woman at the head of the party seemed surprised at the rejection of looking over the paper. However she did not hesitate and stepped over the threshold. The others followed suit, and the party split up quickly to rove throughout the house. One of them stayed back, turning and watching Robert carefully, as if they were afraid that he would make a beak for it. The connection was even worse taking in the fact that he _had_ been thinking of doing just that. He soured and stepped to the side a little bit, increasing the distance between him and the officer. They did nothing in reply; they just continued to take stock of the man in question.

Mentally, Callaghan was taking stock of what they could find. But he had put the duct tape and the rope back in the garage— they were camouflaged among other things like the lawn mower and the work tools. They would look completely normal there. He had also cleaned up every mess that Hiro had made; the blood and the vomit— those were all wiped away. He had thrown out the robot that the boy had had when Robert had first picked him up from the street; that was long gone to some trash heap far away. That wasn't here for them to find fault with either. No— no, he couldn't think of anything they could find. Not right now, anyway.

They would leave in disappointment, and then as soon as they were gone, Callaghan would get everything together and leave San Fransokyo. He would go somewhere else. Somewhere far away where nobody would find them ever. Where he and Hiro could be completely alone, and completely happy. He lingered in the doorway for a few moments, savoring the idea and letting a sense of relief and happiness swell warmly in his chest. But then he heard the clatter of the police looking through his home, and the grin faded. He needed to get through this, first. He needed to get through this in order to reach that happiness he had been working so hard for.

He lingered for three more seconds, his eyes flickering to the end of the driveway. The moment they left, he would speed away with Hiro. Currently, the car was still tucked safely behind the house. As long as they didn't look there, everything would be fine. Everything would be fine. It would be. It had to be.

Callaghan had made a promise to Hiro that he would do _anything_ it took to make this all work out. And he wasn't about to let that promise fall short, either. Especially now.

Robert turned and went back inside to follow the officers, shutting the door behind him.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

She stood at the window, her eyes wide and hollow. Her heart couldn't seem to calm down, and her nerves were completely shot. Behind her, her husband lingered, unsure as to what he should do. Just like she was. Right now, she was just waiting for something to happen. She had been out walking, and she had heard yelling, this time from a house that she was close enough to get the address of.

Stacy hadn't even been listening out this time; she had gone out to clear her mind from a stressful day of work, and had suddenly realized that she could hear muffled shouting and confrontation. She hadn't been the only one to notice, either. She'd glimpsed someone else looking out their window, a bemused and awkward expression on their face. Stacy didn't know whether or not they had acted back then, but she certainly had. Blindly, she had whipped out her cellphone and called the police, already turning and rushing back to her house. She hadn't been thinking. She had been too surprised— too confused. She'd just called the police and sprinted back the way she had come, rushing through her explanation that yes, she had heard yelling, and yes something was wrong, and yes she knew where it was coming from.

She'd reached her house in nearly two minutes, yelling to her husband to come. From there, Stacy had confessed everything in a rush— absolutely everything. She'd said how she had talked to the brother of the missing child. How she had gone out and heard the commotion and called the police a second time. She hadn't even listened to her husband's shocked exclaims and confused questions. She'd just flown to the window.

And then she had waited.

Now, she could see the flashing police lights. It was all she could see of course; it was too many houses down to be able to watch closely what was happening. But the police lights were enough. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she was gnawing down on her lower lip. Her eyebrows were pulled together, and every so often she shifted her weight from foot to foot. Tension was heavy in the air as she just watched the faint gleam of blue and red lights.

Tony was right at her side, yet the two of them were completely silent. If someone dropped a pin, it would probably shatter their eardrums. He glanced over at her, his expression drawn and doubtful. "What do you think?" he asked. She stiffened slightly at the question, but she didn't answer. He cleared his throat and rocked back onto his heels. He looked back towards the street, doubtful. "What if it's nothing?" he asked eventually.

She was quiet. Her expression was drawn, and she reached up to press the tips of her fingers against the glass of the window. It was freezing outside. She had forgotten to take her coat off, in her rush to call her husband over. She just hadn't been thinking. Just like she hadn't been thinking when she had called the police. She had just done the first thing she had thought of. Just in reaction to shouts that…technically…could have been in respect to anything.

What if it _wasn't_ anything? What if she had just terrorized some poor neighbor down the street?

But she kept to her resolve. When she replied, her voice was a soft whisper. "But what if it's the opposite?"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Drive faster!" Tadashi egged, crammed in the back of the car with Aunt Cass. Fred was smushed on Aunt Cass' other side, and Honey Lemon and Gogo were crammed together in the passenger seat. Why they hadn't taken two car was beyond them— they had all been in such a rush that they had even considered it. They just had to get to the house as quick as possible and the thought of splitting up had not even occurred in the first place.

"I'm going the speed limit, Tadashi!" Wasabi snapped, beginning to become stressed after his friend's tenth shout. "We can't get pulled over— then it will take even longer!"

Cass was looking fearfully out the window. Tadashi shook his head. " _Please_!?" he demanded. He weakened just a little bit before he stooped down to emphasize: "Wasabi, we've _got_ to get there quicker!" Unspoken fright was shining in the back of his eyes— fears that he was not brave enough to speak aloud. What would happen if the police got there too late? Was that even a worry? What if something had happened? What if none of this even mattered?

The frazzled terror that he was experiencing was reflected identically in the rest of his friends' faces.

"Wasabi, please go faster!" he kept up. His face fell, and his hands wrung tightly in his lap. He had not felt this scared he had been told that his parents had passed away. Recalling such a fact did nothing to help him, so he closed his eyes tightly and pressed in a strained mumble: "Wasabi, please drive faster. It could be _Hiro_ …"

Wasabi frowned, glancing back at Tadashi with an agonized expression.

The entire car was completely silent.

But there was no fighting it anymore— that much was certain. The panic and the fear was too strong.

Wasabi's foot pressed down harder on the accelerator.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Have you been drinking tonight, sir?" the officer asked. His nametag read Officer Gray.

Callaghan turned and looked over at him, the man hardly able to contain himself by this point. The police were scouring every inch of his home, and he was forced to stand there still, merely hoping that they would not find anything or notice his apparent anxiety. The officer who had stopped to keep an eye on him was still lingering. Though they looked rather young, there was a certain level of authority they managed to have at the same time. It was enough to make Callaghan sick. He took in a slow breath and said as cordially as possible: "A little bit. I wasn't planning on driving. Or being accused of kidnapping."

"We're just covering all the bases," the officer replied, though the words were curt. "Now— while they're looking, do you think you could tell me why one of your neighbors heard you yelling earlier?" His eyebrows raised questioningly. When Callaghan just stared stonily over at him, he swept on. "She called and said that there was a commotion that raised some concerns. And I think that's pretty justifiable, don't you? Care to explain yourself?"

He lifted his chin and looked at the man blankly. "I was on the phone," he explained, his voice bland. "My brother is the stupidest man alive. He called me asking for money for the fifth time this week. He called me uncaring, and that rubbed me the wrong way, after all I've done for him. So we got in an argument, and I may have shouted a little." He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Am I allowed to have such a reaction, officer?"

Gray was not amused by the question. "You can get mad, sure. But you probably shouldn't yell so loud you make the entire neighborhood want to know what's happening." His eyes narrowed and he cleared his throat a little bit. "What's your brother's name?" he asked.

He thought for a few heartbeats. "Thomas."

Gray nodded. "And how much money was he asking for?"

Behind Officer Gray, one of the other members of the police force turned and headed downstairs. Callaghan became sidetracked, watching her intently instead of replying. Officer Gray turned and followed his gaze, his eyes flashing. Then he turned back, now demanding the attention to be returned back to him. "Hey," he called, Robert blinking rapidly as his head whipped back. Officer Gray studied the other, his hands going up to his hips. "How much money was he asking for?"

Callaghan stared at him for a blank moment. Gray's expression was sharpening more and more. Finally, he landed on a number that seemed good enough. But it was hard to focus— had any of them thought to look in his car yet? Or had the search warrant limited them only to the house? Suddenly he was wishing that he could have read it over when it was offered to him. "Seven hundred," he said. Officer Gray nodded. One of the officers turned and started into the kitchen, near the laundry room. Callaghan's eyes tracked her carefully.

Gray exhaled slowly. Pursing his lips, he began to muse. "Wow. A thousand dollars. Quite a lot of money."

"Yeah," Callaghan agreed, without even thinking.

"I certainly wouldn't lend it out. How much was it, again?" Gray asked.

The woman was getting closer to the laundry room. Robert could feel his heartbeat thrum in his ears. He blinked and looked fleetingly back at Officer Gray before he was sucked back to watching her every move. His reply was a subtle mumble. "A thousand dollars."

Anger and suspicion clouded Gray's eyes and he took a small step closer to the man. Immediately, this caused Robert to snap to attention. He looked at Gray with wide eyes, but the man did not back down at all. In fact, he only seemed to flare up even more. "It wasn't a thousand," he said. "At least not when you first said so— you said he only asked for seven hundred." Callaghan's eyes widened a fraction of an inch, and Officer Gray soured. "What was the name of your brother again?" he demanded. "Are you going to change that answer too?"

Reproach settled in Callaghan's gaze. He started to open his mouth and reply, when another voice beat him to it. "You seem a bit ready." He turned, realizing that the woman had found her way to the laundry room. She rolled out the two suitcases, skeptical and dubious. The other officers who were searching nearby stilled, attention zeroing in on what was found. The house seemed to get ten times quieter. Officer Hadley, the person who had found the baggage, raised her eyebrows. "All packed and ready to go. And with _two_ suitcases, too."

His throat was dry. "I was planning to visit my niece. Her daughter is about old enough now— she's been asking for some hand-me-downs."

Officer Gray was growing impatient. "And what is your niece's name?"

Callaghan was blanching by this point. His eyes were wide as he looked from one person to the other. Everyone was staring at him, and all he could think about was the fact that Hiro still in the car, unconscious and waiting for Callaghan to drive away. "My— my niece's name is—" He couldn't for the life of him draw up a name.

Officer Gray scowled and started closer to him.

But before he could do anything, one of the other officers, who had pulled aside the curtain of one of the windows, let out a sharp yell of surprise. "What in the world!?" Concentration was broken, and everyone turned to follow their gaze. Sure enough, a new car had pulled up to the house, along the side of the street. Those inside began to file out, and Callaghan stiffened at the familiar sight of Tadashi. He was _here_! They were all here! Terror flooded over him, and it was all he could do to stand upright and not immediately dive for the back door.

He still had a chance…they still could leave…

Officer Hadley growled in frustration. "Get them out of here!" she snapped. "What are they thinking!?"

Three of the officers whirled around and rushed out towards the new – rather senseless – arrivals. Officer Gray detached as well to go for the window, his eyes crowded with confusion. Officer Hadley sighed under her breath, turning and arranging herself so that she could lay the suitcases out flat on the ground. She started to unzip it, so that she could look at the contents inside. Callaghan's throat swelled shut, and he watched out the window with Officer Gray as the others rushed up to the group. They seemed to be getting into some kind of argument. Tadashi was waving his arms, and Gogo's shouting could be heard through the wall. Officer Gray was muttering something under his breath, and Hadley looked up from the suitcase, becoming distracted as she turned to look incredulously towards the window. Their worry for trouble was clearly apparent.

Callaghan turned, his frazzled mind taking the reins. His thoughts flashed to the gun he had in his coat— inside of the coat that was currently hanging beside the back door. He looked over to Hadley; she had gotten up to her feet again, and she was asking something of Gray— something about whether or not they should go out and help. She was right in the middle of asking the officer to watch and make sure that Callaghan did not go anywhere, when that was exactly what happened.

He was becoming too panicked to risk playing it out any longer. His sheer desire to keep Hiro and make sure that they got out outweighed everything else entirely. He turned and tore for the back door, the two officers left in the house whipping around just in time to see him already out, his coat whipping behind him. Immediately, he heard shouting and cries for help, but he ignored it as he slammed the door. He twisted and shoved his coat on as he sprinted for the car, fumbling as he reached back to his pocket to feel that the gun was still there. Still loaded, too. He'd made sure.

Officer Hadley and Gray rushed after him— Hadley was drawing her own gun from her side. "Robert Callaghan— stop!" she screeched, the man rounding the car to make for the driver's side. By this point, the other members of the force were being alerted by the clamor. The force of police, as well as the people that they had been trying to get leave the property. Every single person was rushing around the corner of the house, breaking into the upper part of the driveway, unaware of the danger considering they had not been able to see what was going on. Only when they did, did the police begin yelling.

Tadashi was at the front of the group. His eyes widened in horror and shock as he skidded to a halt. Everyone else did as well, knocking into each other as they froze abruptly. The police all whirled for their own weapons. Seeing this change, Callaghan reverted to just standing by the car, his hand flying from his side, clenched tightly around his gun. His eyes were blazing— they were crazed and savage, and despite all the odds that he was faced with, he did not back down. He didn't even look like he wanted to. He just looked fit to _kill_. "Keep back!" he roared. "Get away from me! All of you!"

Tadashi stumbled, almost unable to hold himself up. The world was suddenly spinning.

No— it was _ending_.

Officer Hadley took a step closer, her eyes narrowed and her jaw locked backwards. Her finger was poised for the trigger, but she refused to jerk it backwards unless it was absolutely necessary. That was what she had been trained for, and it was what led everyone else to hesitate as well. "Give it up, Robert!" she snapped instead, her voice tense and sharp. Her eyes were narrowed into slits. "There's no point in running now! You've dragged this on long enough!"

Tadashi watched numbly. His mouth was slack, his jaw hanging open.

Callaghan looked crazy, holding the gun with both hands as he whirled in between pointing it from one side of the group to the other. Two were by the back door on his right— the rest were from the front yard, nearly straight in front of him. He could not focus on both at the same time, so he was left whirling around uselessly. Officer Gray scowled, anger radiating from him now as he edged closer with small, hardly noticeable steps. "Stay back!" Callaghan screamed at the top of his lungs. "He's _mine_! You won't take him from me! He's _mine_! He _loves_ me!"

Tadashi looked like he was going to be sick. Honey Lemon rushed forward to hold onto his arm, to prevent him from falling over on the spot. At this motion, Callaghan whipped over to face them, the two stiffening as the barrel of the gun moved to stare them down. The officers immediately began yelling, telling him to drop his weapon. Officer Gray started crawling closer to him as his back turned. But Robert just zeroed in on Tadashi, spitting with rage now. " _You_!" he screeched, Tadashi's very core chilling at the tone of his voice. "If it wasn't for _you_!" He took a step closer, and Gray began to lower his own gun, getting closer. The other officers watched tensely, unsure of what to do as Robert continued to aim the gun at the two students. One of them looked prepared to throw himself in between them and the raging man.

But Robert was only focused on Tadashi now. The younger watched with sickened astonishment, realizing that his professor was crying by this point. That they both were. "He is _mine_!" Robert howled. "He's not _yours_ ; he never _was_! He was _always_ mine! He was _always_ Abigail!" The young man jerked backwards, as if he had been slapped clear across the face. "And that will never change! He _belongs_ with me!"

Tadashi found his voice. Somehow, he managed to screech just as loud as Callaghan was, though he hadn't known it was possible, with how thick and cut-off his throat felt. " _Where is he_!?" he shrieked, Honey Lemon ducking her head at the volume that reverberated against her eardrums. Tadashi sucked in a harsh breath, shaking from head to toe. He screamed again, leaning on Honey by this point to remain upright. " _Where's my brother_!?" All the months of sorrow, all the months of grief and pain and wondering— they were all crammed into those three words.

Callaghan's hands were shaking as they struggled to hold the gun. But he sounded just as enraged. "He's not your brother!" he yelled. "He's not your brother anymore! He's _mine,_ and he's _only mine_! Stay back, if you know what's good for you!"

Tadashi's shocked eyed flickered over to the car, shock keeping him in place.

Aunt Cass burst into a scream herself, trying to throw off one of the officers, who had been trying to shove the group back to relative safety. " _You son of a bitch_!" she howled, nearly looking at crazed as Callaghan did as she fought blindly to rush out at him. Callaghan jerked, looking over at her with wide eyes. Again, his attention was wrenched aside. Cass was stricken and broken— tears were rushing down her face, and her voice grated harshly against her throat. " _Give me back my nephew!_ " The words were nothing but a heartbroken wail.

Callaghan turned and looked at the car, making a move as if to rush and just dive into the driver's seat, as if he was under the impression he could make it if he just plowed in reverse. But Officer Gray was too quick for the motion to pull itself off. Gray dove forward quickly, having put his own gun on the asphalt before throwing himself directly at the man, tackling him to the ground. Robert hit the driveway with a thud, and Officer Gray didn't waste any time at all to wrench the other around, grappling with him as he tried to get the weapon off of his person.

Officer Hadley rushed forward to help, yanking out a pair of handcuffs as she charged. Callaghan's gun was ripped from his hand. The man was screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs, struggling to fight off Hadley and Gray and get back up to his feet. But the others of the police force were dashing up to help, and suddenly there was no danger. The man was powerless— his arms were being wrenched behind his back, and the officers were snapping steel over his wrists. Hadley was shouting over him, reading his Miranda Rights. But he wasn't listening.

" _You can't do this_!" Callaghan howled, raving as he thrashed and kicked out. " _He's_ mine! _He's_ mine! _Let me go_!" He was looking over at the car desperately, and Tadashi turned to follow his gaze, his face frozen in a permanent expression of appalled horror. One of the other officers branched off for the vehicle. He opened the nearest door, scanning the backseat in confusion. He did not move immediately, and Tadashi reeled, starting to bat Honey Lemon off of him quickly. He was unthinking and brash with the motion as he basically just slapped her off, but he wasn't even close to thinking about manners at the moment.

He broke into a sudden sprint, racing over to the passenger side door. The officer perked, shouting out something that Tadashi couldn't care less to listen to. His hands were shaking and trembling as they fumbled with the door handle. Aunt Cass flew forward, tripping over herself as the rest of the group just watched. They were all shell-shocked at what had just occurred— even Fred. From the ground, Callaghan was still yelling at the top of his lungs. " _Don't take him from me! He's mine! He's all I have left! He needs me! He told me that! He doesn't like it when I'm not with him! Get off of me! He_ needs _me_!" He spat, struggling to get up.

But it was all over now.

Tadashi yanked open the passenger side door finally. And at first, he didn't see anything at all, and his heart fell. But then his eyes caught on the small thing that was crammed in the space underneath the dashboard, and his heart completely plummeted down out of his body. He froze, and at first he wasn't able to move at all. Aunt Cass was the person to break his frozen stupor, and that was just because of her screech of anguish.

 _Hiro_.

He was barely the size of anything. He was so much smaller than he had been when he had left their house to go Bot Fighting that late night on November 14th. He looked like a skeleton, and Tadashi was afraid that that was all he actually _was_. His skin was stark white in the dimness of the car, and it seemed to cling to each and every bone— he looked gaunt and starved and nearly dead. His eyes were closed; he didn't even rouse in the slightest at Aunt Cass' heartbroken scream. His jacket looked a million sizes too big for him; it pooled off of him like it was a blanket.

Tadashi snapped into motion. His breathing was nothing more than ragged gasps that scraped against his throat and his lungs. He flew down for his baby brother and grabbed him underneath the shoulders, backing up with rushed steps and pulling him out of the tight space. He turned and stepped around Aunt Cass. He meant to hold Hiro close and run as far away from this place as humanly possible. He wanted to run and run until there were miles between him and the man that had once trusted and idolized. Until he couldn't taste the sickness in the back of his mouth, and until he could get himself to stop sobbing like he was now.

But he couldn't do any of that. He didn't even get close. He just took a few staggering steps away from the car before he collapsed. He fell down to his knees, leaning over and letting Hiro down to the ground as gently as he could manage in his state. Aunt Cass collapsed as well, hitting the pavement hard as she hung her head down low. Tears streamed down her face, and wracking sobs tore at her as she looked down at her nephew. Her sobs were a mix between relief, and sheer guilt and sorrow. Tadashi's shoulders heaved as well, the young man resorting to propping himself up against the driveway to make sure that he wouldn't capsize.

Hiro remained oblivious. His head hung awkwardly to the side. And for a long moment, Tadashi's cries of desperation and despair were only worsened at the fact that he could hardly recognize his little brother. His hair— all of his hair was cut! He was wearing glasses— big black ones that looked foreign and awkward on his face; they didn't belong. He was wearing a necklace that Tadashi had never seen before, and one of his leg was splayed out awkwardly, as if something horrible was wrong with it.

But his face… Tadashi leaned over, pressing his forehead down into his little brother's chest, which was barely twitching with signs of life. "Oh my God," he sobbed thickly, well aware of everyone's gaze drilling into him. But he didn't care about any of that. He thought that when he finally found Hiro, he could finally feel that sense of relief and happiness he had been craving for a year now. But now all he felt was undisguised terror. Hiro was completely beaten and bloody. One of his eyes was swollen and puffy, and all around the injury, he was riddled with ugly bright red bruises. His cheek was split open wide— blood was smeared across his face and down from his mouth as well.

Tadashi pulled back, rambling incoherently almost as he looked at his brother fully. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," he rasped, looking at how skinny Hiro was, and how beaten. His wrists were marred with darker-colored, older bruises which barely peeked out from the sleeves of his baggy jacket. Something looked wrong with the way he was laying even— he looked bent at some awkward and pitiful angle, like something wasn't right with his spine. Tadashi's breathing picked up, and he could not keep from breaking down.

" _Hiro_!" he screeched, bending down low and pressed his head down against him once more. Aunt Cass was reaching over, touching her youngest nephew on his face and his shoulder and his arms, as if she was struggling to get him into some kind of awareness. Or maybe she was just struggling to remind herself that this was _her_ nephew somehow. Tadashi just kept screaming, unable to stop himself. "Oh, God, no! Please, no! Hiro, wake up!" He looked at him desperately, but nothing changed. His baby brother was still comatose. He reeled, trembling and shaking as his hands fisted tightly in the too-big jacket. " _Hiro_!" he broke. "Hiro, _please_! Don't do this! _Please_ don't do this!"

Officer Hadley had rushed over to witness the scene once Callaghan had been properly detained. Looking at the boy that the two were currently hunching over, she just stared numbly. The situation that had been stagnant for a year – the missing child case that had gotten absolutely nowhere – was suddenly solved, completely out of the blue. But as soon as the thought occurred, she shook it away. She did not have time for bewilderment. There was too much to be done. So she just turned and flashed a look at one of the officers that was obviously waiting for further instruction. "Call an ambulance," she growled.

The other nodded and rushed back to the police car.

She turned and looked hollowly back at the scene in front of her. At the group of friends that were standing off to the side, each one too shocked and horrified to take a single step closer. At the man that was now writhing and spitting on the ground, crazy with anger and fury as he screamed that they could not take his child away from him— that his child needed him and loved him. At all the officers it took to keep him in place. At the aunt and the brother, the sounds of their sobs liable to shatter someone's heart on impact as they hunched over the boy that they had been missing for more than twelve straight months.

At the missing Hiro Hamada, now found, but beaten, bruised, bloody, starved and who knew what else.

Oddly enough, it was hard to experience a sense of triumph or relief, which was the opposite of what she had been expecting.

Hadley could really only recall the slightly-hollow thought that had occurred to her the moment Callaghan had been tackled.

It was all over now.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: I feel like right now is an appropriate time to remind all of you that this story isn't nearly over.

Bad choice of words, but this chapter is 15000 words long, I have school tomorrow, it's about 11:00 pm, and I fulfilled my promise of getting this out to you as soon as humanly possible. I _really_ hope I did this justice, and like I said: I still have so many things planned for this. But I tried to do as much research as I could to make sure that everything was right and nothing was out of place, so I hope that I accomplished that atleast. I try to spend about as much time making sure I'm correct, as I do typing.

I edited the entire chapter save for the last about six pages which is what I just finished typing, so if there are any issues there are well, if you could very kindly point it out, I would be more than happy to go back and fix it.

I really, _really_ hope I did this chapter in particular enough justice, for obvious reasons. And I will continue to hope I do each chapter after this one justice, as _this_ will be the half of the story I was _most_ looking forward to write. Thank you for reading as you always do, and I hope you really loved this chapter and are excited for the next one!


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: We are _so_ close to 300 reviews, and that is just so amazing! Thank you guys so much for all the wonderful feedback you give me! It really makes getting out these weekly (probably too-long) chapters out so worth it! I really can't say how much it truly means to me, really! Thank you very much for all that you guys do, and thank you for sticking with me throughout all this! CX

And, again, I put forth initial effort to research as much as I could to make sure that this chapter would be as accurate as possible. If there are any technical flaws, I would love to fix them as best I can, should you point them out kindly.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It was all a blur. He couldn't keep track of anything— he was numb and useless and dead to absolutely anything and everything that was around him. The only this that Tadashi could focus on was Hiro. Hiro, Hiro, Hiro, Hiro, _Hiro_. All he could experience was horror and disgust and sorrow and guilt. Suffocating, heart-stopping guilt that smothered him and choked off his air supply. He could hear dull sounds in the background behind him, but he wasn't paying attention. He could hear yelling and snapping, but it sounded distant and far away. It was completely incoherent.

All he could focus on was Hiro. Tadashi was trembling from head to toe, and, like a madman, the young man scrabbled, struggling to cling and hold tight to his little brother. He could hear the continued yelling, and he thought he heard his name, but by this point he could not care less. Hiro's face was bruised and gory. Blood stained the front of his shirt, both from his cheek and his nose. And the same red smear was trickled down his chin.

When Tadashi frantically tried to jar Hiro awake, he could feel the harsh touch of ribs that jutted out at Hiro's sides. When Tadashi's hands flew to hold either side of Hiro's face, he could feel his hands immediately warm with blood. When Tadashi screamed out Hiro's name, sobbing and pinched tightly with panic, his baby brother didn't even flicker over with recognition. What was going _on_? How had everything _gotten_ here? How had this _happened_?

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!

He knew _exactly_ how this had happened.

For a moment, that was that possible for him. All he could do was pull blindly for Hiro and scream his name over and over again, panic overtaking to make all clear thought go straight out the window. After what seemed like ten lifetimes of this, Tadashi felt himself being torn away from his brother— peeled back against his will as his yelling only increased. He jerked out, desperately pulling forward to try and stay with him. But it was pointless. The grip on Tadashi's elbow was unfaltering, and eventually others joined it. He was ripped away from Hiro, rendered unable to fight back thanks to the shock that was chilling his entire body.

Through his shaking vision, he could only stare blankly as his brother was loaded up on a stretcher and wheeled away quickly. He could hear that yelling again— escalated now. He registered the fact that Hiro was being taken away from him, but he couldn't move to try and rush after him. He felt like he weighed a million pounds, and the only thing he could do was sit numbly on the driveway, his eyes wide and hollow as his mouth hung slightly open. The sirens faded away, and so did the shouts and the yells. As he sat, his mind reeling too fast for him to keep track of rational thought, it grew to be absolutely silent.

If he was thinking, he should have realized this new quiet and jerked himself into action.

But he couldn't.

He just sat on the ground in rapt fear. He remembered it now. He remembered all of it. He remembered how he had complained and vented to his professor, so long ago. ' _Hiro is such a smart kid but he just doesn't want to stop and think_ ,' his own words echoed in his mind, and it stung him like a slap in the face. ' _He goes out every night and I have no idea if he's going to come back with a warrant for his arrest, or with a split skull_!' He had…he had told him. _He_ had been the one to tell him. He'd had no idea— he— he had just been ranting, and— but it wasn't—

Professor Callaghan's voice, the words that he said, flashed back to him. ' _Bot Fighting— that certainly_ _is_ _an issue. I should know, too; when my daughter was younger, that was all she wanted to do. Such a stubborn little girl…'_ Tadashi struggled to breathe correctly, though it was getting harder and harder to do. Panic clawed at his throat, and tears burned his eyes. Realization dawned over him, and he gritted his teeth tightly as he remembered how his teacher had spat and raved in the driveway. ' _He was_ _always_ _mine! He was_ _always_ _Abigail_!' Abigail…Callaghan's daughter that had…that had died. Everyone knew about it! Everyone knew that he had a daughter who died! But— but…but he just didn't think…

' _Do_ you _think he's dead?_ '

' _Yes_. _I do_.'

He bent over, his expression crumbling as his shoulders heaved with barely-constrained sobs. His eyes were closed tightly, as if there was a chance to hide from the truth that was now unfolding. He had thought that this was what he wanted; he had imagined this moment of finding Hiro in so many different ways. But he hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected to feel the sorrow and guilt and horror that he did now. He hadn't anticipated any of this.

"Tadashi?" The voice was soft, but it finally managed to pierce through the clamor that was shrouding his mind. He jerked upright, his eyes flying wide as he snapped back into attention. He realized that his face was wet with tears, and that silence was now rampant where there had once been chaos and confusion. Honey Lemon had been the one to speak, and as he turned to look at her, he could see the concern and worry that was creased over her face. He realized he was sitting down, his back against the car that he had dragged Hiro out of. His friends were clustered tightly around him, Gogo and Honey Lemon crouched at his sides. "Tadashi?" Honey Lemon repeated, her eyebrows pulled together in a wince. "Tadashi, are you alright?"

He blanched for a moment, unable to comprehend anything. He felt Gogo's hand placed reassuringly on his shoulder, and he could feel the stares of Wasabi and Fred burning holes straight through him. For a heartbeat or more, he just sat and stared. Blank was all he could be, in the aftermath of what had just occurred. Yet when he did rouse, he did so in a harsh jump. He whirled around, hitting his head against the car in the process. Honey Lemon gave a noise of alarm at the slam, but Tadashi wasn't paying attention to himself. Not right now.

He just turned, looking around wildly at the driveway around him. It was empty. The officers were gone, and so was Callaghan. Hiro was gone— he had been wheeled away with quick haste. But Aunt Cass was nowhere to be seen either. The sirens and screaming were replaced by the serene quiet that came with winter nights. The only people left at the scene were the five of them. And as this realization dawned over him, Tadashi began to panic and worry once more. Where had— where did everyone—!?

"Aunt Cass went with the police; they offered to drive her to the hospital in one of their cars," Gogo explained, trying to get her voice to be as soft as Honey Lemon's. Tadashi looked down at himself to see that Honey's sweater had been draped across his shoulders at some point when he wasn't paying attention. It was too small for him, but the gesture was well-made enough. "The paramedics took Hiro, Tadashi." Her voice was laden down— it was weaker than it normally was. "The police offered to take you along with Aunt Cass. But we said we would wait here with you until you calmed down a little bit."

Tadashi's breathing was still irregular. His face fell and he looked at each one of his friends with a pleading kind of stare. "What did they say?" he demanded, his voice near hoarse now as it grated against his throat. When they just looked clueless as to what he wanted, Tadashi pressed further, with more urgency. "What did they say about Hiro?" he repeated. "The— the doctors— the people— what did they say about him?" Honey Lemon glanced up at Fred, who met her stare with his own desolate one. Seeing this, he stiffened. "Is he going to be okay!? Is he going to be alright!?" His voice cracked and broke nearly in half. "He's not going to—!?"

"He'll probably be just fine, man!" Fred was the first to bring himself to reply. Tadashi turned to look at him, his expression completely stricken. Thankfully, the other continued to grin encouragingly. "They didn't really say too much when they were here. They were in a rush to leave." Tadashi slouched at this, dropping lower to the ground. "But they didn't show any sign of like— giving up, or anything! So that's got to be a good thing, right?"

Tadashi didn't reply. He just leaned over, pressing his hands against his eyes as he hid away his face. Wasabi grimaced, flashing Fred a look before he tried his own hand at helping. "Look, let's get you up, alright?" he asked, reaching out to offer a hand to help him stand. "We can go to the hospital. We'll see if we can see him now. Alright? Does that sound good?" It was a little bit overdone, but his friend seemed to still be in dire need of reassurance. And this was the best he could do in the wake of everything that had just occurred. "They left about seven minutes ago. We might be able to catch up to them still."

Tadashi didn't look up, but he did mumble out a reply. Thanks to the fact that his head was still ducked away, though, whatever he said was indecipherable. Wasabi's face fell uncertainly, and Honey Lemon leaned a little bit closer to him. "What did you say, Tadashi?" she asked, prodding however uneasily. "We can't hear."

He glanced up a little bit. Though Honey Lemon almost wished he didn't. The look that was hanging in his eyes was almost too painful to look at straight-on. It took all her willpower not to flinch away from the harrowing sorrow that looked back at her. "What about Professor Callaghan?" he asked, the question coming out as nothing more than a whisper. It was like he was too afraid of getting the answer to properly speak. "What…what happened to him?"

Fred wilted at this and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. Gogo's expression hardened over at the mention of the man, and her voice was closer to a growl when she replied. Thankfully she took up the effort— nobody else seemed sure on what they were supposed to say in response. "They took him away; that's all we know right now," she huffed, turning and looking down the street, in the direction that the police car had sped away. "They'll probably come back soon. I dunno how it works." She turned and looked back at her friend, almost mournful at the sight of him. "We should probably leave before that."

Tadashi sighed through his nose, flinching as he ran his hands through his hair. It was a long stretch of time before he could bring himself to speak again. When he did, his voice remained muffled and soft. "I can't believe…" His lower lip trembled and he breathed out hard, trying to stifle as much excess noise as he could. "I never thought that it would end up like this," he cried. "None of this…none of this was what was supposed to happen. I never thought…"

"None of us did," Wasabi reassured him quickly. "This is insane, Tadashi. Nobody could have thought that this was what was going to happen. Trust me. Trust _us_."

"But I should have!" Tadashi yelled, turning now to glare up at Wasabi as if the other had said something personally offensive. Wasabi stepped backwards just a little bit, caught off-guard but unable to speak for a moment. " _I_ should have known what was happening! I saw Callaghan _every_ day! _Every day, Wasabi_!" His friend wilted, but he did not interrupt. He knew that it would only make things worse. Tadashi was shaking again, and his face was flushed as he continued to yell as loud as he could manage with his ruined throat. "I was the one who did this!" Tadashi shouted. "I was the one who told Professor Callaghan about Hiro! I thought— I thought that he was just concerned! I-I thought that there was no harm to it!"

"You couldn't have known, Tadashi," Honey Lemon murmured comfortingly. "I was there too. I didn't think anything about it either."

Tadashi shook his head, looking down at the ground in a defeated manner. "I told him everything," he whispered, his voice hollow. "I told him he went Bot Fighting at night by himself." He turned and stared from one person to the other, desolate. "He didn't come back— that night he went Bot Fighting, when he didn't come back. Do you think…?" Words died on his tongue, and he swallowed thickly to grimace hard. They were all looking at him like he was some kicked puppy now. But what other reaction would they have now? "I did it," Tadashi rasped, horrified at himself now. "I did this. I _helped_ this happen. This is…this is all my fault…"

"It's nobody's fault!" Gogo snapped immediately, not pausing for a single second. "The only person that has blame for what happened is Callaghan!" When Tadashi didn't look comforted she put her hand on his shoulder once more, forcing him to listen to her. "Tadashi. Don't get ahead of yourself, okay? You have _no_ idea what happened here— none of us do! Don't blame yourself for something you don't even know about. Right?"

Tadashi just shook his head heavily, unable to do much else.

Honey Lemon grimaced. "Tadashi, let's just go to the hospital, okay?" she asked weakly. "Everything will start to look up from now on. I promise. Let's just get up and go see how he's doing."

"An entire year," Tadashi whispered, completely ignoring her. It was impossible to ignore the tears that were in his eyes. In the dark, they were more prominent than ever. Honey Lemon winced and looked down at the ground; Gogo looked like she was either about to get sick, or get up and track Callaghan down just to punch him in the face. Tadashi, on the other hand, just looked mournfully on. "An entire year…and I was in his classroom." He was hardly speaking above the smallest of whispers. But he might as well have been screaming. "I saw him…every day. I was…I was comforted by him. I…was _grateful_ for him." His voice absolutely shattered with this.

Gogo tried her best to repeat herself, though she wasn't even that comforted by it all. "We don't know what happened yet, Tadashi," she said rather uselessly. "We've got to wait until the police tell us." Or Hiro. She did not say the last part aloud; it sickened her enough just to think it. Her mind was branded with the sight of Tadashi's little brother beaten and mangled. None of them really were friends with Hiro; he had always been on the antisocial side. But they had sat through hours of stories from Tadashi. They might as well have been his friend, for all they laughed at the antics he pulled and all the tales they partook in. So they were not spared from this heartache in any sense of the idea.

But still. They could not imagine what Aunt Cass and Tadashi felt.

Tadashi continued to stare down at the ground. His stomach was seizing and twisting up on itself. Sorrow was like bile in his gut, and he couldn't keep his head from reeling and spinning. He thought of how many times he had looked to Callaghan for a smile or some sort of reassurance. He thought of how many times he had left school feeling lighter and more at ease that things would soon look up. He remembered the allowances of stretched due dates for homework or projects that Professor Callaghan offered him even though he didn't really need them. He remembered feeling so lucky that he had Callaghan there as teacher in such a dark time.

He remembered when his professor had come to the candlelight vigil that they had held for Hiro. And Tadashi went rigid as he remembered the man's kind words, and how he had pulled the two of them close into a reassuring embrace. He remembered how fortunate he had felt afterwards, in knowing that his teacher was so kind and caring and there for them. Tadashi remembered what he had said to Aunt Cass afterwards, watching Callaghan be there on the news. ' _I think if he saw this, he would be_ _so_ _relieved. And he'd feel so fortunate to know that so many people are waiting for him to come back home_.'

In thinking back to what he had said before, a cold sting of horror slowly pooled in the pit of his stomach. His eyes went wide, and his friends' concern spiked as he went stiff as a board. But another set of words crammed itself into his mind— a question that, when given to him, he did not think twice about. But now, all he could feel was paranoia and awful, bone-cutting fear. Callaghan's voice, so welcomed before, now just stabbed him straight through. Tadashi was slowly realizing each and every thing that he had been too stupid to before. He'd been too blind to. Now it was all opening up, but out of everything so far, this was the memory that struck him the most.

' _What about a knife wound_?'

And just like that, it became too much. Tadashi shoved himself up to his feet, stumbling as he rushed ahead, shoving Fred aside without a second thought. Fred nearly fell over, but caught himself at the last moment, letting out a sharp yelp of surprise at the sudden shove. But Tadashi didn't even glance over his shoulder. He just rushed ahead, so quick that he nearly tripped over his own feet. Honey Lemon jumped up, looking alarmed. But before she could ask what was wrong, her question was answered.

Tadashi staggered ahead a few more paces until he collapsed again. He hit the pavement on his knees, pain lancing through his legs at the contact. And, sickened and repulsed by far too many things at once, Tadashi doubled over at the waist. He hadn't eaten much today, with his constant worrying and confusion. But despite the fact that there was not much in his stomach, it was instantaneous that he jerked forward, hunching over the driveway and getting violently sick.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Aunt Cass was sitting down, her entire body tense and rigid as she stared brokenly off to the side. Her hair was going every which way, due to the fact that she kept running her hands through it in the attempt to possibly distract herself. Her eyes were swollen and still streaming with tears. A rather young-looking girl was sitting beside her, taking notes furiously as she peppered the woman with questions. She was garnering as much about Hiro as she possibly could from the woman; she had said that this was needed if the doctors were to do anything for him. Maybe that urgency in particular was why she persisted, despite the fact that the woman was currently falling apart at the seams.

"Any past drug use?" the nurse asked, glancing up at her in concern.

"No. No, he was— he was a good kid," she whispered, refusing to look anywhere but the floor. All that she possibly wanted at the moment was to have Hiro back in her arms. Or to at least be able to see him and see that he was safe. But this was the best she could have. She gave the answers regardless of the fact that she was so close to just breaking down on the spot— she would give anything and everything she had by this point, as long as it went for Hiro. But she had gotten to the hospital what seemed like ages ago. How long had it been? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? She knew that there was a clock over in the corner of the waiting room, but she dreaded turning and looking back at it.

She didn't want to see how late it was. How much time had gone by.

"Does he have allergies to any medication?" the nurse pressed.

"No. Just to peanuts," Cass mumbled.

Maybe if she didn't look at the clock, somehow, it would all turn out to be fake. Nothing would be real and it would all just be some sort of messed-up nightmare. She would wake up and go out into the kitchen to see Tadashi and Hiro sitting together at the table, just like they used to do every day. Hiro would be perfectly fine and unharmed— he'd be happy and bright, and he'd twist around in his chair to aim that same old smile up at her that always managed to melt her heart. "There you are!" he would cry out, completely thrilled and elated. "I thought you'd never get out here! What took you so long?"

"How about any major hospital visits? Bad injuries?" the nurse went on.

Cass shook her head slowly, as if in a trance. "No. Never."

She was waiting for that wake-up call. She was just waiting and praying for everything around her to shatter, and for her to wake up gasping underneath her covers. Or at the very least, she was waiting for someone to come out of a door and dissolve into laughter, cackling about how this entire thing was just one big prank. But neither of those things happened. Everything was the same, and it dragged on. Despite the fact she still refused to look at the clock, somehow there was still no winning. She felt the pain and the worry regardless of whether or not she looked.

She guessed that was just it, though. There _was_ no winning. At _all_.

Before the nurse could delve into her next question, there was a new sound that dragged Aunt Cass into further attention. It was the sound of a flurry of footsteps, heading directly their way. She rocketed up to her feet at once, and sure enough, her heart swelled as she realized that Tadashi and his friends were making their way towards her. With the stricken and unsure expressions reflected on everyone's face, it looked like they were all deer caught in the glare of headlights. But then again, she probably wasn't much better. Her lower lip trembled at the sight of Tadashi, and before he had a chance to even come to stop in front of her, she took off to meet him halfway.

She was not thinking, and so she ended up basically crashing straight into him. But at the moment, she couldn't care less. She just leaned over, her arms wrapping tightly around him as she pulled him as close as she possibly could. To her sheer relief, Tadashi instantly returned the embrace. He ducked his head down into her shoulder, holding her tightly as if he was trying to anchor himself down to her. Neither of them said anything at all. There wasn't anything to say— or rather, there was probably too much to get out in the first place.

Nobody in the entire hallway spoke, and nobody moved either. Aunt Cass and Tadashi just clung together, while the four friends looked on, unsure of what else they could possibly do to help. The nurse looked distraught, glancing from her clipboard to the two of them. She seemed a little torn on how long she should let them be together before she interrupted.

Aunt Cass closed her eyes tightly, tears marking their way down her face. Reluctantly, she pulled back and looked up at Tadashi, biting down on her lower lip as she looked up to place her hand gently on the side of his face. She inhaled sharply and shook her head, trying to offer him a smile. Though it came out broken and forced. "I should have listened to you," she whispered, her voice cracked and chipped in places. "I almost…just completely…" Sorrow moved to crowd her expression, and she found that she could not finish the thought.

Tadashi just shook his head once. "It's okay," he rasped gently, his voice small and weak. "It's fine."

She searched his face almost desperately now. Doubt shook her to the core, and when she managed to reply, she could hardly be heard. Her voice was frightened and almost too pathetic to listen to. Off to the side, Honey Lemon and Wasabi exchanged heavy looks. "Is it?" she choked out. Tadashi's face fell a bit, and he opened his mouth to try and reply. But he couldn't get a single syllable out. Not to the question that had presented itself, and not at the stricken face that looked back at him.

But when she didn't get an answer, Aunt Cass drew her own. And the fact weighed itself over her face as her expression crumbled down in deep regret and mourning. And in a voice even harder to listen to than the first time, she went on to voice the confession that had been burning a hole through her heart ever since she had first seen Hiro pulled out of Robert Callaghan's car. "I'm starting to worry that nothing will ever be fine anymore."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"So. I bet you…five whole dollars that I can fit more than _fifty Twizzlers_ in my mouth at the same time."

…

"Alright, alright. I'll bet _ten_."

…

"Okay, you've pushed my hand. I will bet you all _one hundred dollars_ I can fit more than fifty Twizzlers in my mouth at once."

Wasabi sighed, a weary expression flickering over his face. "Fred, stop," he huffed, a heavy grimace crossing his face as he shook his head. The other looked disheartened at the rejection, but thankfully enough, he did not move to object or try and add even more pressure. He just gave up, taking instead to look down at his candy. Rather than pry more, he just rested his head glumly on his hand. A bet that would have probably enthralled the entire group once before, and would have made a great story to tell later, fell flat now.

The five of them had gone down to the nearest gas station some time ago in the attempt to get something to eat, along with some fresh air. Gas stations, of course, didn't offer much in terms of quality food. But this one did offer bags of chips or pretzels or hot dogs. It was better than nothing, and getting out of the stifling hospital would be good for Tadashi. He didn't need to sit there and worry and fret— it was just making this whole thing harder on him. After hours of waiting, the group of friends had eventually persuaded him to dash out, which was a remarkable feat to accomplish. They had tried to do the same with Aunt Cass, as well. But was adamant on staying for any news. She said that she would hang back and call if there was anything, but she had been quick to agree that Tadashi should go out and eat.

After all, the sun was starting to peak out over the horizon now. It was basically breakfast.

Fred had offered to bring Cass back some food. She hadn't been all that enthused with the offer, but he had gotten her a bag of small pretzels anyway, just in case. Currently, they were loitering on the sidewalk, for lack of anywhere else to go and spend their time. The longer they could prolong their return, the better, probably. So they had all taken to finding a relatively comfortable spot to situate themselves. Mostly, the four of the friends were sitting on the curb, their shoulders nearly touching in proximity.

But Tadashi was standing a little ways off from them. His back was to his friends, and he took instead to staring emptily down the road, where the hospital was. In the dawn, some of its lights could still be seen glinting in the distance. It was far away, and yet all-encompassing at the same time. Just like this whole situation seemed to be.

They had only gotten news of Hiro so far. Just news of what the doctors were trying to fix and what they were going to do. How Hiro had ingested some kind of deep sedative drug, and they had to administer something to counteract the effects. How his leg had fractured and then proceeded to heal incorrectly, so they would need to break the bone again just to re-set it. How he was so skinny and how he must have been laying on one side too much, because all along his ribs and his hip were blisters and sores that were running the risk of infection. How his back was so injured that—

Tadashi closed his eyes tightly, sucking in a harsh breath as he looked down, tearing his gaze away from the building. He had only bought one thing from the gas station— a single bag of Gummy Bears. In shaking hands he gripped the bag tightly, and it was clear by the rigid way he stood that he was not entertaining the idea of eating even a few pieces. He wasn't talking; he wasn't even looking back at his friends. He just switched from staring at the hospital, to staring down at the candy.

Honey Lemon wilted, exchanging an anxious look with Gogo. She cleared her throat after a moment's pause and reluctantly forced herself to speak up. "Tadashi, do you want some of my nachos?" she asked, her voice soft with the inquiry. Tadashi didn't look back or even rouse at her questioning. So she cleared her throat and tried again. "Tadashi, you've got to eat something, okay?" When he still didn't so anything, she pushed herself up to her feet. Gogo did the same, following her lead. Wasabi and Fred watched, both of them solemn and subdued. "You're not going to help things along by not eating."

This he did turn at, but his expression was wilted and crestfallen. She had to force herself to take in a breath and remain encouraging under his stare as she leaned over and offered him the container. She had about half left, despite the fact that she was still starving. "Have some," she said, her voice lowering into a small mumble. Pressing it a little bit, she added: "You can save the Gummy Bears for him, that's fine. Just— just have some of these at least. Please? You need _something_."

He hesitated, just staring at her with a hindered expression. Eventually he sighed, reaching over and picking out one. It was measly and not much; it was one of the chips that had maybe just a smudge of cheese on top. But he put it in his mouth and swallowed nevertheless; it was what Honey Lemon had requested. She sighed and leaned over, putting her hand gently on his shoulder. Once again, it was the best she could do to try and comfort him at the moment. "It'll be okay," she offered. He grimaced and ducked away from the words, as if it put him through physical pain to listen to the reassurance. But she persisted as best she could anyway. "It might be hard. And it might be difficult. But…but he's _home_ now. He's _okay_. Or…he _will_ be."

Tadashi looked down at the ground, his gaze empty and hollowed-out. His voice was barely able to be heard when he croaked out his next words. "Did you see Professor Callaghan?" he rasped. Honey Lemon grimaced, but she didn't reply. So he continued, sounding just as shell-shocked. "Did you see him screaming? I—I just saw him the other day. He was— he was completely normal. He— he asked me if I needed help with Baymax." His lips were barely moving to force the words out. "I…I never thought…" His forehead creased slowly, and a sense of weak anger and betrayal began to leak into his eyes. "The…the things he said…what he was screaming…"

Tadashi looked up at Honey Lemon. There was a new glow of desperation and desolation. "What did he mean?"

She didn't know what to say. Gogo spoke up and took the burden away from her, much to her relief. "It won't matter," she said, her voice flat. Tadashi turned and looked to her instead. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking at Tadashi in a way that demanded attention. Because she _did_ need to let him understand this. The sooner he got it through his head, the better off everyone would be in this situation. "Because no matter what that sick creep did, we're going to fix it. Alright?" Her voice was hardened, and Honey Lemon winced a little bit, for fear she was being too forceful.

But she did not interrupt when her friend went on. "We have no idea what went on, okay? But it almost doesn't even _matter_. And you _want_ to know why, Tadashi?" He weakened, his expression pained. But she swept ahead. "Because you're his _brother_. And Cass is his _aunt_. And we're his _friends_. Right? And it doesn't matter what happened— not in the sense that there's no getting away from it. What Callaghan said – about him not being Hiro anymore – that's just stupid. Because we'll be here for him when he needs us. He'll have more than enough support from _everyone_. We will _be there_. Okay?"

Tadashi grimaced. He let out a shaking sigh that seemed to rasp weakly through his lungs. He reached up and rubbed his forehead, and when he did respond, it was quiet. "Yeah," he mumbled. The singular word was as much as he could get out right then. Struggling to gain control over himself again, he breathed out quickly before dropping his arm down to his side. "Yeah," he said, a bit stronger this time. "Yeah, you're right. He's— he needs us." His voice broke and splintered with this last assertion. He tried it again, as if letting it grow to be more normal on his tongue. "He needs us."

Gogo looked at him levelly. "That's right," she reassured, softer now as she began to relax. "So _you_ need to be strong. For Hiro. And for Aunt Cass. And Aunt Cass will be strong for you and Hiro too." She turned and plucked the container of nachos out of Honey Lemon's hands. Then she turned and held it out to Tadashi, raising her eyebrows. "You've got to eat," she pushed on. "Eat _something_."

He still seemed slightly doubtful. His eyes flashed as he looked down at the food. But then he looked back up at his friends, who were all staring expectantly at him, and the smallest sense of strength seemed to leak back into his gaze. Though his expression was still stricken and weighted with remorse, he shifted ever so slightly to hold himself up a little higher. Gogo recognized this with a flash of relief. It wasn't much; but, to be frank, she hadn't _expected_ much. So this was enough, and she would gladly take it. They all would, she was sure.

Tadashi leaned over and took out another chip, this one with actual toppings.

Inwardly, Gogo could only hope that the brief sense of determination would not be vaporized as soon as he saw Hiro again.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Hey, I'm not sure if you guys noticed this yet, and _please_ correct me if you have…but there are exactly one-hundred and seventeen tiles down that hallway over there," Fred announced, reentering the waiting room of the Intensive Care Unit. He had returned from a 'short' trip to the bathroom that had indeed begun to stretch out into a slightly-suspicious length. Wasabi had almost been sent out to fetch him back before Fred wandered out of a window and fell four stories or something like that. Really, taking the boy into consideration, it wouldn't be the weirdest thing he's ever done.

Nobody at all looked remotely impressed with the feedback of his adventure, however. Honey Lemon and Aunt Cass were stirring coffee slowly in the corner, trying to hold a decent conversation like they had been for the past three hours. Wasabi was organizing the bookshelf on the other side of the room, and Gogo didn't even look up from her phone. In his exhaustion, Tadashi had abandoned all hope for a comfortable enough chair; he had taken to just laying down on the floor, staring up at the ceiling in silence.

Fred seemed disappointed at the lack of response. But he resigned to going over and plopping down by Honey Lemon. His eyes flickered over to the coffee that Honey was sitting over, and he realized with a pang just how tired he was. He had to have been up for ages now. He'd dozed off in the waiting room a couple of times for quick naps, but he was getting to the stage where he was in dire need of some actual, hardcore sleep. They all were, really.

It was going on six at night by now. They'd nearly had a full day of absolutely nothing. Well— nothing was a loose term to use, he guessed. They'd gotten news on Hiro's condition. That was why they had been moved to wait up here in the Intensive Care wing of the hospital. Apparently this would be where Hiro was moved once things winded down, and apparently it was close to doing so. They could hope. Because so far, all it's been was passing reports by nurses that went through. That the drugs were out of system. That the swelling that had been increasing the pressure in his head was going down because he was being given oxygen and some kind of medication. That they had tested for sexual abuse and the results were negative.

That was all they got, all day long. Just snippets here and there.

Fred wasn't really big on the whole coffee thing— he thought that it tasted disgusting and everyone was just in on some sort of big conspiracy to make it _seem_ like coffee didn't taste like actual liquefied dirt. But at this point, he would take any kind of caffeine to keep him awake and coherent, and the coffee machine _was_ right there. _And_ it was completely _free_ , too. He shouldn't ever look a gift horse in the mouth.

So, as soon as he sat down, Fred just pushed himself up again to head for the station.

From where she was hunched, Aunt Cass let out a small sigh. She turned and, with a heavy grimace, looked over at the clock on the wall. Sure enough, she felt a stroke of pain at the time that was reflected back at her. It took a small heartbeat for her to drag her mind back to herself and clear her throat to make sure that her voice would not come out thick and incoherent. But when she did, she turned to address the kids that were gathered together. Still, they were the only people here. "You guys should go down and check out the cafeteria," she said, noticing how everyone immediately snapped to attention at her voice. "You could all get some dinner."

Silence met the suggestion. As they all just took to looking back and forth, it was made clear that nobody was all that eager to leave. Reluctance hung heavily in the air, even with the four friends, who had previously been the ones to persuade Tadashi out earlier for breakfast. But the more that time stretched on, and the darker it got outside, the more anxious they were to wait here for when they could finally see Hiro. Or at least get some actual statement that he was doing just fine and would stay that way. Leaving right now was much harder than it was earlier this morning.

But save for the waiting, the last thing that any of them wanted to do was fight with Aunt Cass. Especially now. Her eyes were still swollen from crying, and her nose was red from how many times she had been forced to use a tissue. She had nearly filled up the trashcan that was nearer to the entrance door. Her voice sounded like she had just finished screaming nonstop for eight hours. She was a sight to see, and a painful one at that. She could probably ask them to go and rob a bank, and they wouldn't waste a single second, as long as it would help her to smile.

Wasabi turned from the bookshelf, raising his eyebrows as he looked over at Tadashi. "What do you say?" he prompted. Tadashi blinked, rousing as he tore his gaze away from the ceiling and to his friend instead. He didn't reply, and so Wasabi offered him a small shrug. "You never know; you could find some pretty decent bites down there. Or that might just be for patients." He offered him a smile, trying to lighten the heavy mood. "Once I broke my arm— I got to order this delicious macaroni dish. It was pretty great."

Tadashi was reserved. He turned and looked over at Aunt Cass, his gaze almost hopeful. "Or you could go down," he offered, a little weakly. "You didn't eat when Fred brought food back for you. You could go down and get something, and I could wait here to make sure that nothing else happens." Honey Lemon sighed, looking down and picking at her jeans a little glumly. She couldn't be angry, no. But the sorrow that she was feeling was palpable and tangible; it was like she was drowning in it. All that anyone wanted was to see Hiro, but the desire to be with him that _they_ felt was nothing compared to what it was probably like for Tadashi and Aunt Cass both.

Cass' face fell uncertainly. She started to open her mouth, but it was clear that she didn't have anything that she could get out. So she just bit it back and turned back to look at the floor instead, her expression sorrowful. Tadashi winced uncomfortably, as if he realized that such a pointed offer might come across as crass. He twisted and pushed himself up into a sitting position, hunching over and running his hands through his hair.

However much he wanted to do the opposite, Tadashi gave in. "Alright," he sighed, looking over at the clock. It was definitely the time for dinner, at the very least. If anything, it was almost too late for it. He figured that he could just go and get something really quick— he could be right back up here in less than ten minutes, if he just rushed fast enough. With the inner resolution, he turned to glance back at his friends, who all seemed relieved at the easy transition. "C'mon, then. We'll go get something."

Everyone that had been sitting, save for Aunt Cass, stood up and began to stretch out their stiff joints, the atmosphere beginning to brighten just a little bit. Honey Lemon loudly commented that she was in the mood for pasta, and Fred asked whether or not they would have candy down there that he could buy. He'd finished the entire bad of Twizzlers— after he had nearly choked trying to shove in twenty at once, he had taken to just eating them normally. In terms of finishing off the candy, it had all gone much faster for him since that. Now, it sounded like he was in the middle of betting Wasabi that he could fit _two hundred_ peppermints in his mouth at once.

Tadashi turned and offered Aunt Cass a weary smile that barely reached his eyes. She returned it, leaned over and taking hold of his hand gently. "You want anything?" her nephew asked, his voice a mere mumble. "I can bring it back to you. Even something small?"

Aunt Cass offered a pinched grin and just shook her head. "No thanks," she murmured. When Tadashi only looked worried at the refusal, she squeezed a tighter hold on him. She moved her shoulders up and down once. "I just don't think I could eat right now," she admitted.

He nodded once. "Alright," he sighed. "Then I guess we'll all just go down and try to get back before—"

He was cut off abruptly before he could finish. From behind Tadashi, there came a small cough; someone was clearing their throat. It wasn't much, but it was immediately enough to snap everyone's attention away from the moment at hand. Aunt Cass jerked straight up in her chair, and Tadashi whirled around, his eyes as big as the moon. A woman was standing at the threshold of the door that led into the Intensive Care Unit. Despite the harsh way everyone immediately swung around to face her, she was ready and armed with a gentle smile. "You're with Hiro Hamada." It wasn't a question in the slightest. There was a certain finality to it. Which wasn't surprising, given the past year.

Tadashi started to reply, but he wasn't quick enough in the face of his newfound burst of hope. Completely out of the blue and with disregard, Fred spoke up where he was standing, still by the coffee machine. Tadashi hadn't been counting, but he figured that this was about the fifth sugar packet his friend had poured into the small Styrofoam cup. "Yeah," he said, looking at the woman with raised eyebrows. She seemed slightly surprised with his initiative. "We're his family." He poured out the sixth packet before he momentarily forgot about the drink that was now more sugar than coffee. "What's going on?"

Aunt Cass stood up to quickly weave closer to the woman, who brightened significantly. "I'm his aunt," she said, Tadashi turning to rush after her. "Is he alright?" she demanded, her voice strained with the question. "Please tell me he's okay— I don't think I can take much more of this waiting! He's just— I can barely even understand what's going on, and I just want to see him. It's been a year. It's been a year since I've— since I've spoken to him," she rambled in a rush. Tadashi wilted, glancing at her with a heavy expression. Though it wasn't long before he was back to looking over the newcomer's shoulder, into the hallway that branched off behind her into the unit. He could see a large desk a few yards from the door, and more work-clad people milling around, looking to be on-duty.

Hiro was _somewhere_ over this threshold. Right? He _had_ to be.

The woman surveyed Aunt Cass with kind sympathy. "I'm sorry for the stress that you've been put under," she said at once. "But Hiro Hamada did have quite a few features to him that were particularly concerning. If you could actually sit down and talk, I have a few things I should probably—"

"Where is he?" Tadashi interrupted.

She stilled, surprised at the interjection. "Oh, well— Hiro has been put into Room 221. We want to monitor him closely, given his state. He is very weak, and he had a number of problems that were critical to fix as soon as possible. We want to make sure that he's well on his way to recovery." Tadashi turned, making a move as if to head for the door. Seeing his haste, she added quickly: "He's sleeping still; he's not awake yet. And it's likely that he'll be groggy when he does wake up. He had ingested a sedative drug that was particularly strong, and when he was already so weak and malnourished, it took quite a big toll on him, even after we flushed it out." Aunt Cass crossed her arms tightly over her chest, hunching her shoulders as she looked off to the side.

"But I can see him?" Tadashi demanded. "I can see him now? You're— you're finished?"

"You can go into his room, yes," she replied. "Though for now, we do ask that it is only family. It's mostly for his benefit, for when he _does_ wake up. With this specific course of events, we want to make sure to take every precaution in making sure that he feels safe and secure. Of course, when he does wake up, he can change this if he wishes. For now, we are keeping his mental state of mind at the forefront of our concerns; we wouldn't want to chance anything." She turned back to look at Aunt Cass. "Though I do need to address his physical state with you in more detail, and you have a few papers to sign as well."

"Of course," Aunt Cass murmured. She cleared her throat and turned to Tadashi, offering him a small nod. "You go on ahead. I'll come when…when this is all finished."

Tadashi looked at her a little doubtfully. Some part of him was not brave enough to go without her. But he could not stifle his own desire to see Hiro, and he knew that this emotion would outweigh anything else. The others looked predictably disheartened in the face of the fact that they could not actually go in and see Hiro. But when he glanced over at them, they quickly offered him encouraging nods and smiles. Fred flashed him a thumbs-up. None of them looked like they wanted to leave now that visiting was not an option, and their continued support offered Tadashi a kind of crutch to use.

He smiled before he turned and made for the door. Thankfully, the woman that had entered the waiting room had kept it propped open for him, so he did not have to buzz his way inside. He just stepped over the threshold, his stomach a tight knot as he looked at the signs on the walls that pointed to the room numbers. As the door closed behind him, he could hear the woman start to speak again. She was saying something about how this wouldn't take long, and then she only needed a few signatures.

For a moment, he stopped short in the hallway of the wing, halfway to the room number that he had been given. His face fell a little bit, and he was once again met with that sudden realization that this had all played itself out so quickly. A problem that had stretched itself on for an entire year was suddenly fixed, and in a way that could only be a product of Tadashi's worst nightmare. His stomach felt like he had a hard ball of ice in it, and he was worried that, in remembering how Professor Callaghan had looked in the driveway, he would fall apart a second time.

But then he remembered himself. No— not himself. He remembered Hiro. He remembered Hiro and what Gogo had told him earlier. Hiro needed him right now. He needed him more than he had ever needed Tadashi before in his life. Tadashi couldn't fall apart, because from now on he was going to hold Hiro up as high as he possibly could. Above all of this mess and above whatever else that might come with it. His eyes narrowed and his expression steeled; he started walking again, and this time he did not stop until he reached 221.

The rooms of the Intensive Care Unit were glass. Or at least— the front walls that faced out into the halls were. But Hiro's room was dark, thanks to the fact that the blinds were drawn tight over the windows. Not that there would be light anyway, really, considering it was almost nine. But Tadashi could see the bed there, and he could see the heartrate monitor right beside it. He sucked in a sharp breath and leaned over to slide open the door, letting himself in and shutting it softly behind him.

Again, he was faced with something he had been waiting for. He had been waiting to see Hiro for the past day it seemed, just loitering in the hallways and bathrooms of the hospital. Now it was here, and Tadashi could hardly breathe. After more than a year, they were reaching an end. Slowly – very slowly – but surely. The thought was enough to punch him in the gut, and it was all Tadashi could do to keep one leg moving in front of the other, until he was standing at the side of the bed.

Tadashi looked down, and he pressed a shaking hand lightly against his temple.

Hiro was still asleep, just like the woman had said would most likely be the case. And although it was dim in the room, Tadashi was acutely aware of every single detail of his brother. He was so _tiny_ — it seemed as though the pillows and the blankets of the hospital bed were swallowing him whole. His head was tilted to the side, facing Tadashi, and the older brother realized with the smallest hint of relief that all the macabre blood had been cleaned from his face. It wasn't smeared over him like he was some zombie from a horror movie. Yet despite the fact that that gore had been wiped clear, the bruises that had started out bright red were now graying and purpling over. His skin was discolored and painful-looking. His eye was still swollen to be at least twice its normal size, and his lower lip had a large slice through it. There was a track of stitches across his cheek, sealing the gash that had previously been bleeding out.

Weakly, Tadashi dropped down so that he was on his knees. Thanks to his height, this put him straight at eye-level with his baby brother. He had grown since Hiro had seen him last; but Hiro seemed to only have gotten smaller. The thought put a lump in his throat, and he tried to swallow it away. "…Hiro?" he asked gently. The boy did not react at all. He was still in some kind of deep sleep. The sight only made him sicker, and he tried again. "Hiro? You've gotta get up." It was like he was trying to nudge him up for school. A frown creased over his face, and he reached over with a shaking hand to ghost his fingers through Hiro's hair. His hair that was so short…so different…so…not his…

He remembered one of the things that had been reported to them around two in the morning. Against better judgement, Tadashi turned and grabbed the covers, folding them back so that they were at Hiro's hips rather than his chin. A feeling of sickness welled up inside of Tadashi at the sight that met him. The hospital scrubs that Hiro had been put in were way too baggy on him. He was a stick, and the fabric was left to pool on the mattress. There were also bruises scattered here and there across his skin like confetti— there was even a dark smudge marring his neck. Leaning over and pulling up Hiro's shirt just a little bit, he saw that his brother's side was bandaged tightly. _Sores._ That's what they said had happened because of him being on his side too much. This was what they had mentioned could get infected. The bandages reeked of some kind of medicine; it was almost nauseating.

But Tadashi didn't have much longer to dwell on the idea of what had happened there. Because his attention was immediately yanked to something else entirely. Hiro had been completely covered by the blankets before, but now that Tadashi had taken them off, he had revealed what he had not been able to see once he looked down.

Hiro's right arm. It was _ruined_. Tadashi's breath caught in his throat, and his eyes rounded out with horror and shock. There was a scar that had not been there before. It was long and twisted and ugly; Tadashi almost couldn't even look at it head-on without cringing away. The skin looked horribly burned and warped beyond repair. Stretching from Hiro's shoulder all the way down to near his wrist, the scar was an agonizing-looking blight that could not possibly be overlooked once it was uncovered. It turned Tadashi's stomach, and he monetarily forgot how to breathe. He just stared down at Hiro's arm, horrified and silent.

And guilty.

' _What about a knife wound?'_

'… _Or there is cauterization as a last resort.'_

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

His friends had gone home. After going to the police station, witnessing the horrific scene in Callaghan's driveway, and then a full day of loitering in the hospital, they realized that they would not be able to see Hiro for a while. Aunt Cass and Tadashi had been apologetic, and had even go so far as to ask the nurse whether or not they could possibly just pop in for the smallest of seconds. But their efforts were wasted— the attitude of the hospital did not change whatsoever.

The friends were quick to reassure the two of them that there was nothing wrong. That they would just go back to their houses and get some sleep and recover. They reaffirmed that they would be able to see Hiro later, when he was recovering and getting better. Then, offering out hugs and doling out reassuring goodbyes, they went their separate ways. It left Aunt Cass and Tadashi sitting on either side of Hiro's bed, simply waiting for him to wake up.

Hiro was hooked up to some IV. Tadashi almost wanted to ask what it was, but at the same time he did not want the answer. The nurse that had come in every so often to check on them all seemed pleased enough with whatever it was getting accomplished. But Tadashi couldn't bring himself to be the same— to be satisfied in any way. Because Hiro was still asleep. It was requested that they were to be as quiet as possible with him, and avoid waking him up on purpose. Although the temptation to do just that was almost too strong to avoid, the two of them resigned to silence.

Now, it was nearly midnight again. By this point, Tadashi felt unfocused and drained completely of energy. It was a good thing that his friends had gone home to actually sleep, because he felt like a zombie. Every so often, he had to jerk himself, picking up his head when it threatened to fall as he blinked rapidly to keep himself aware. Despite the exhaustion he was facing, the thought of missing Hiro waking up was enough to keep him fighting the tide. Aunt Cass was not so successful, however. About an hour ago, she had fallen asleep, leaning over with her head on the hospital bed. One of her arms was outstretched so that her hand was resting limply on top of Hiro's.

So Tadashi was the only one awake, alternatively getting up to pace to keep himself active. The silence of the room was deafening, though he made sure to keep it that way so that neither of them would be jarred awake. But being by himself in this silence, it was hard to keep his head straight. It was hard to keep his eyes from pricking and burning with something other than tiredness. He tried to distract himself by thinking of other things that he could actually build off of.

He tried to think of what he could do when they brought Hiro home— they could throw a surprise party for him. They had to welcome him back with _something_ extravagant. And they had to celebrate the birthday that he had missed while he was…gone. He was fifteen now, not fourteen. In fact, he would sixteen very soon. He was way overdue for a driving permit, considering he was almost of age for a full-fledged license. He could teach him how to drive.

From there, he was just making as many promises to himself as humanly possible. He would play as many games with Hiro as his younger brother asked for, and he would do so without the smallest hint of impatience. He would spend all his free time that he had from now on with him, to make up for the time that they had lost. He would do whatever Hiro asked him— if Hiro asked for Tadashi to hand him the remote, he would hand it to him, even if it was only three feet away.

Every promise that passed through his mind, in reality, probably meant nothing. They were too small, and too insignificant in comparison to the magnitude of what had just happened. But the little vows were enough to tide Tadashi over. They were enough to force his mind to concentrate on something other than the harrowing guilt that was gnawing at him from the inside out.

Turning to pace back to the bed from the far wall, Tadashi became aware of something suddenly. It surprised him, because he figured that something like this probably should have been realized earlier. He guessed that with everything that had happened in such a quick fashion, he could not be blamed. But once he did land on the idea, he was shocked of his apparent obliviousness. His hat was gone. He blanched and reached up, sure enough feeling his fingers immediately bed into his hair rather than fabric. He wracked his mind, trying to recall where he could have left it.

But while he was in the middle of wondering if he could have left it at the police station, his thought process was cut through abruptly. From the bed directly in front of him was the sound of a small mumble. It sounded like a groan of some sort, and at first Tadashi just looked over sorrowfully, thinking that it was just Aunt Cass waking up from her brief nap. But as he turned and realized that Aunt Cass was still sleeping hard, Tadashi went absolutely rigid and stiff. He turned to look at Hiro, a certain tightness clamping around his throat.

Hiro's forehead was slowly creasing in a sense of pain and confusion. He stirred ever so slightly, in the smallest of twitches. But it was much more than he had moved ever since Tadashi had been able to lay eyes on him again. Tadashi's breath caught in his throat and he rushed back the rest of the way, once again dropping to his knees as he looked desperately at his little brother. "Hiro?" he whispered, realizing with a stop of his heart that he immediately began to stir a little bit more at his name. "Hiro?" he pressed, nearly shaking as he waited. "Are you…are you awake?"

Hiro's eyebrows knitted close together for the briefest of moments, but then his eyes opened. It was a slow and pain-filled effort, it seemed. Hiro literally peeled back his eyelids bit by bit, only managing to get them about halfway open before it apparently became too much. His eyes were foggy and glazed over, and it took a moment for him to focus on Tadashi. Even then, he didn't say anything, though Tadashi was sure that he stiffened up a little bit more.

Tadashi's face broke out into a brilliant smile as he found himself looking into his brother's eyes for the first time in more than twelve months. He was pitiful and a painful sight to see, but his eyes were the same. Bleary and hazy and not all there…but they were the same. Relief swamped over him completely, and when he spoke, his voice was ragged with the emotion. "Hey," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. Hiro still didn't say anything, but his breathing was slowly picking up little by little bit. Tears burned their way into Tadashi's eyes, and he pressed on as best he could, though his voice was slowly becoming clogged and choked-up. "You're back…" _Finally, finally, finally…_

Hiro's breathing continued to pick up and escalate— the fact was known only because air seemed to rasp down his throat noisily to begin with. At first, Tadashi thought it was just because he was alarmed or even excited at the change of being in a hospital room. But the older brother's smile quickly dropped as he realized that instead, this change seemed to be inspired out of fear. His dulled eyes seemed to glitter with fright. And before Tadashi could move to try and comfort him, Hiro spoke up, his small voice hardly grating through his throat. "Don't…" he whimpered out. His lower lip trembled, and Tadashi watched with shock as his brother's eyes began to shine over with tears. Hiro closed his eyes tightly. "Don't do this…"

"Don't do what?" Tadashi asked, forgetting to whisper now as precaution went out the window. From where she was awkwardly leaned over, Aunt Cass began to become roused. She stirred, slowly dragging herself back into awareness at the sound of voices. But Tadashi wasn't even paying attention; his eyes were wide as he looked at Hiro, who only seemed to grow more upset. The heat of panic rushed through him, and Tadashi scrambled to try and right whatever had been wronged. "Hiro?" he asked. "Hiro, what's wrong? Tell me— tell me what to do. Tell me what to fix. Tell me what you need."

Aunt Cass immediately snapped into attention as she realized what had happened while she had been asleep. She sat straight up, her eyes wide and shocked as she looked down at Hiro. One side of her face was creased over and red from when it had been pressed against the comforter. She quickly drew her hands through her hair, stuttering for a few moments before she was able to get out anything at all. "Hiro?" she gasped. By this point, his expression had crumbled down itself, and he was quickly dissolving into a crying fit. She leaned over, her hands slightly outstretched, as if she wasn't sure whether or not she should touch him. "Hiro, baby, what's wrong?" she asked in a rush.

Hiro gasped sharply, the breath scraping his lungs pathetically. He forced his eyes open again, Tadashi going still as Hiro looked back at him. There was something very wrong with the way that he was looking at him. Though the look on Hiro's face gave away the fact that he might still be out of it, the expression he wore looked far too close to the expression that Tadashi had seen on Aunt Cass, and on himself as well. Hiro looked mournful, almost. Sorrowful and guilty. Again, he struggled to croak out words that could hardly be heard. "I'm sorry," he wheezed, looking at Tadashi, who just stared hollowly back. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…" He continued to mumble the apology senselessly, in small mumbles that got quieter and quieter. Tears rushed down his face, and Tadashi was too stunned to react.

Aunt Cass was the one to snap into motion. She finally reached over, taking hold of his hand again and squeezing it in a gentle but firm manner. "Hiro, look at me," she requested, her words quivering. Hiro didn't at first, just mumbling underneath his breath as his shoulders shook. The heart rate monitor that he was hooked up to was escalating, the beats getting closer and closer together. It wouldn't be long before someone rushed in, and so Aunt Cass leaned over and turned Hiro's head to her, being careful of his injuries. "Hiro," she repeated. "Baby, calm down. Okay? You're okay."

Hiro blinked, his breaths coming in as sharp hiccups. His gaze focused in on her after a moment's pause, and he began to fall still again. The grogginess and the fuzziness that had clung to him when he first woke up didn't seem to clear entirely. It stuck to him, leaving residue that he apparently couldn't shake off. But it did begin to leak off just a little bit. Recognition of some kind seemed to spark in the depths of his eyes, and though his breathing still came out quick and panicked, his mumbling broke off. Realizing this, Aunt Cass softened, tears rushing into her eyes as her lower lip trembled just a little bit. "You're alright," she whispered, reaching back down to clutch at his hand. Though she did reach up quickly to wipe at her cheeks. "You're alright, baby, you're safe. You're in the hospital."

He didn't say anything; his breathing just continued to come in and out in uneven rasps. Tadashi watched, his mouth still hanging open, as Aunt Cass just continued to try and calm Hiro down. "You're okay, baby. We— we finally found you, honey. You've been— you've been gone for so long." She smiled, though the grin shook and shivered in weakness. She had to reach up again to rub at her eyes. She sniffed hard before she was able to go on. "You're going to be fine." Her voice was harder with this— it was steadier and louder, as if she was making it clear that this was a promise rather than some empty words to make him feel better. "You're going to be just fine from now on. We're going to keep you safe."

Hiro still breathed in and out in irregularity, though the monitor he was hooked up to slowly began to even out bit by bit. He looked down at his hand, looking disoriented as he realized that she was holding tightly to him. His eyes flashed again, and he gave another harsh gasp inward before he asked: "…Aunt Cass?" It was the saddest sound that Tadashi had ever heard, and it helped to rouse him out of the confines of his initial shock.

Aunt Cass slouched, obviously more than weakened at the sob. But she kept that smile on her face, however heartbroken it seemed to be. "Yeah," she choked out, sniffing as she looked over him. At his different hair, and at the way he seemed to squint in order to see. His glasses were on top of the couch near the bed. Apparently they were close enough for him to make out. Though the thought came across as painful to her. She struggled to move on. "Yeah. I'm right here. I'll be right here with you. From now on."

Hiro blanched. He turned, the effort of moving his head looking to be far too much for him. It was all he could manage to do at the moment, and Tadashi went rigid again as Hiro looked back over at him. His little brother's eyes were still streaming, his split lip shaking and trembling. "T…Tadashi?"

He sounded scared.

No, he sounded _terrified_.

A lump immediately jerked up into Tadashi's throat, and he nodded earnestly. He was surprised that his voice came out just as broken as his little brother's. "Yeah," he said, dumbly repeating Cass' reply. Trying to shake free his mind, Tadashi leaned over and grabbed on Hiro's other hand, being careful and trying not to hurt him. It was like his brother was made of glass; he didn't want to break him any more than it already was. Hiro went rigid at the contact, and his eyes enlarged a little bit more. Tadashi leaned closer, trying to make it all easier for him. "It's me. I'm so— I'm so sorry." He didn't mean to let the apology slip, but looking at Hiro's face, and all the wounds that it held, he could not keep it back. He just shook his head weakly, his throat feeling as though it was on fire. "We found you. We found you, but—"

Surprisingly, Hiro cut him off. "You're…?" Tadashi straightened, seeming confused. Hiro stared at his brother as if he was in deep shock. His forehead creased. "You're…still alive?" he whimpered. Tadashi jerked backwards, the question slapping him in the face. Still, desperate, Hiro pressed on in that same pathetic whine. "You're not dead?" he cried, another tear trailing down to leave marks on his face.

It took Tadashi about five seconds to get out a response. "I'm…? Of course," he said, Aunt Cass' expression freezing in bemusement and slight anger at the words, and all that they implied. Hiro crumbled again, and his body began to shake with suppressed cries all over again. Tadashi held tighter to his baby brother's hand, reaffirming the idea that he _was_ solid, and that he _could_ touch him. Reaffirming the idea that he wasn't dead. "I'm perfectly okay, Hiro. I'm fine. I'm right here— with you. I'm with you, okay?" Hiro ducked his head down, closing his eyes tightly again, the motion coming across as painful. Tadashi leaned even closer, wishing for nothing more than to make things okay. "I'm right here," he repeated, strained now. "I'm not dead, Hiro, no. You aren't either. We're okay. We all are."

There was a period of silence. Aunt Cass and Tadashi just stared at Hiro tensely, waiting for him to react. And react he did, after this stretch in which he seemed to come to the conclusion of what had happened. Of where he was, and what that meant. And his reaction was to break down. Aunt Cass and Tadashi's hearts broke simultaneously as Hiro was reduced to harsh sobs that wracked his entire body. Tears rushed down his face, and he ducked down even more, as if he wanted nothing more than to disappear from anything and everything.

His words were sporadic and rushed, coming out in between these harsh and wracking sobs. He could not seem to finish a single sentence, and at first, Aunt Cass and Tadashi were too horrified to respond. "He told me— I tried to get out— I couldn't, I— he said he would— I just wanted— I wasn't thinking— he tried to— he tried to— he tried to—"

Aunt Cass immediately leaned over, reaching out and wrapping him up in a tight hug, being careful as to not hurt him in any way. But at the same time, she struggled to calm him down. Her eyes were overflowing, yet she tried desperately to comfort her nephew. "Shhhh….baby, I know. I know," she cried, planting a fervent kiss on top of his head. "I know, I'm so sorry," she whimpered, listening as Hiro continued to stutter and struggle to communicate. "I know, baby, please don't be upset. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. Please, baby, please…"

Tadashi could not tell who out of the three of them was crying more.

Hiro continued to ramble, his voice still that pathetic ring that tore and ripped at their hearts. "I tried— but— he— I couldn't— he hit me— and no matter— it just— it— it wouldn't stop— it wouldn't stop— it wouldn't stop!"

"I know, I know," Aunt Cass sobbed, ducking her head down. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, baby, I'm so sorry. I know."

Hiro continued to wail, though his voice was getting softer and softer.

Aunt Cass just continued to cling to him, desperately holding onto her little boy for all it was worth.

Tadashi just stared, his face wet and sticky with tears as his mouth hung slightly open.

And again, Professor Callaghan's voice rang in his ears hollowly.

' _He's not your brother anymore!_ '

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: The wifi went off in my house, so I am forced to travel to a separate beacon of wifi in order to upload this. Because of that, there might be a few typos, as I had to rush to get it out. If you could point any glaring ones out super sweetly, I would love to go back and fix them as promptly as my wifi will come back on, so it won't be as soon as it typically is probably.

Again, this was a chapter I had to stop short because it's already long enough. And please be nice to me in terms of updates after this one. AP Exams are coming up, and I have three to take. I will work on the chapter, but just please understand if there's a small lull. I've got some college credit to earn. It ends May seventh, so after that I'll be so free I won't even know what to do with myself. So yeah.

I wasn't lying when I said was I was looking forward to this half of the story! I hope you guys are too! I hope you all liked this chapter and are excited for all that I have in store. Because it's quite a lot.

Thank you for reading! And I'll see you all again as soon as possible!


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: I apologize for the lack of updates, though I did warn you all of a small lull. I've finished all my finals and my AP Exams, and thanks to the break, I did very well on them. I was also given the English Departmental Award at my school; I know people don't care, but I like to brag about the fact that I am now admitted as the best student in literature. Bam.

Hopefully this chapter will make up for the absence that school has created. Summer starts tomorrow, so I will be much more present and back on-track. Thank you all for your patience, and I hope I get to hear from you all again! I've missed it!

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Exhaustion dragged at his every movement, and his eyes were starting to sting, they were getting so heavy. His yawns were getting longer and more frequent as time continued to drag on, and he was starting to have fantasies about flopping down on his bed and passing out for about two weeks straight. But despite the fact that he was beginning to envy sloths, who got to sleep for about eighteen hours a day, he refused to stop working. He had had long shifts like this before— it wasn't anything uncommon when you were a police officer; rather, it was part of the job. He was _choosing_ to stay and wait this whole thing out.

After all, it _had_ been a year of absolutely nothing. This case had been completely empty since the moment it had been called into the San Fransokyo police station. Now, all of a sudden, completely out of the blue, everything had changed. He could very well be the most exhausted person on the face of this planet; Sargent Gerson would remain steadfast in his decision to stay at work rather than take off.

It was going about an entire day since Doctor Robert Callaghan was brought into custody. And it had been an ongoing struggle for those who were in charge of detaining him to drag out some sort of coherent thought out from this confusion. Sargent Gerson was doing his best to document the goings-on; he was taking care to write down anything and everything he possibly could. From what had happened at the house, to how long he had been in questioning. It was his job, considering he was stationed at the forefront of the police station.

However, mostly he was just sitting and waiting for any news.

Currently, he was trying to delve away from this high-strung situation, and turn instead to one of the traffic incident reports that had started out on his list yesterday. He still had quite the load to do in that realm of work, and he figured he might as well do some of those while he was waiting for any unfolding news. But the effort was a little hard to accomplish, with the entire place up in arms and abuzz with this new excitement. Reporters had found their way over here, and if he looked up over the desk, he was sure to see at least one loitering outside the building. He had no idea how they found out about this— he never did. It seemed like every little thing the police did, reporters were instantly fully aware of the situation and ready to sink their microphones into whatever thing was going on.

He sighed, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck with a weary grimace. He certainly didn't envy the family; that was for sure. Whatever happened from this point on, it was going to be tough. Heck, it was going to be tough down here _running_ things. Recalling the stricken brother and aunt that he had seen in and out of this place for the past twelve months, he knew that it would be a long haul. He hadn't even see Hiro— though he had heard rumors throughout the station of the state that he had been found in. He tried to believe against it; however, the 'rumor mill' around here was usually anything but exaggerated. A curse that came with the job, he supposed.

His fingers flying over the keyboard in the effort to lose himself in some other work, Gerson was roused by the sound of approaching footsteps. He immediately tore his gaze away from the computer, alert at once as he realized that Officer Hadley was making her way towards him. Her steps were quick and rushed, and her lips were pulled down into a frown. She looked just as exhausted as he felt, judging by the worn expression on her face. Nevertheless, she was staying here as well, and she seemed to be a woman with a mission.

Unsurprising, considering what she was trying to do at the moment.

Her strides were brisk, and she only stopped once she was on the other side of his desk. Her eyes gave off that dart-like sense of irritation she was well-known-for throughout the force, and Sargent Gerson tried to remind himself of her sharp tongue. He was already more than tired with everything going on; he was certainly too tired to sit back and listen to any lectures or rages as a product of some misplaced word or comment.

"Didn't they have fruit or something somewhere?" she demanded, reaching up and rubbing at her forehead with a sour sigh underneath her breath. Gerson's eyebrows raised, and he opened his mouth to reply, but she was sweeping on before he had the chance. "Because I thought that it was in the break room, and I went there and all that was there was some ramen noodle packets, and let me tell you, that's not going to do anything for me right about now."

"They had some fruit down to the hall," Gerson replied, eyeing the other a bit warily. "But that was all eaten about three hours ago, I think." Hadley scoffed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at the news. Trying to fight off a wince of his own, Gerson asked instead: "So…it's really going that bad, then?"

She threw him a withering look in reply. At first, that was all that he thought he was going to get. But to his surprise, she let out another huff of air and shook her head. However irritably, she did bring herself to respond. "We can't get anything out of him— nothing that we want, anyway." She leaned over, crossing her arms over her chest as she rested herself against the counter. She cleared her throat and shook her head. "He just keeps saying the same thing over and over. Different variations, but it's always just the same thing, no matter what we try and say."

Sargent Gerson's forehead creased over in confusion. "What is he saying?"

She repeated that aimless shake of the head. "He just keeps repeating that we can't take his kid away from him," she sighed. "He's said over and over again that Hiro needs him, and that we have to bring Hiro back. That's all that's happened, really. How long has it even been? I stopped counting after twelve hours." She sighed and tightened her ponytail, fighting a scowl. "We've tried millions of different tactics. I'm really starting to _not_ be able to act like the good cop. I'm close to slapping him upside the head."

Gerson sighed through his nose. "I feel like that's frowned upon in a certain degree of legality."

She growled underneath her breath. "It's getting to that point where I don't care anymore," she snapped, though it was clear between the two of them that her words were mainly spouted out of frustration. She was one of the best officers on the team here— though she was famous for her temper, she was also famous for her ability and commitment to the law. However, this was just a point to further drive home just how drastic this situation was.

As if the idea crossed her own mind just at this same time, she ducked her head down close to her chest. "You should have seen it," she said, her voice losing its edge now as it grew a little weaker. Gerson shifted over to lean against his desk as well. He didn't say anything; he just surveyed her silently, waiting for her to continue. And continue she did. "You just…you just should have _seen_ it. It was absolute _craziness_. And the little boy…" She trailed off, her eyebrows knitting together just a little bit.

Sargent Gerson said nothing. He just stared at her, tight-lipped and resigned. He made a conscious effort to keep his face wiped of emotion. He just waited for her to proceed, and thankfully enough, she did. She recollected herself and took in a deep breath, shaking herself free of the meddlesome distractions. "I should get back soon," she sighed. "We just took a break to eat." Again, she reached up to fiddle with her hair. "I just want to get some answers, you know?" Her voice came out in the weariest of exhales. The expression on her face wasn't one that Gerson, or anybody on the force for that matter, saw too often. "But I guess there's no use. It'll come out anyway. And it's up to wire right about now."

She turned, frowning as she looked at the other a bit desperately. "What are the chances we'll get to talk to Hiro soon, do you think?" she hedged.

He just offered her a shrug. "I don't know," he admitted. "I don't think that's the main concern at the moment." He turned and glanced over his shoulder, to the clock that was on the wall near him. "Not right now, anyway. You've got more important matters to figure out before then." He hesitated for a brief heartbeat before he cleared his throat and asked: "Has he talked to a lawyer yet?"

She scowled, but answered nonetheless. "He's going to get one, soon," she sighed. "We offered for him to call someone, but he just keeps going on and on about Hiro. That's all he'll say. So we're going to try and do whatever we can for him." Though the words were tinged over with irritation and resentment, they were there all the same. "In the meantime, we've just been trying to make some sense out of all of this. Which is _much_ easier said than done."

Gerson raised an eyebrow. "You think he's insane?" he asked, the question he had been wondering privately for quite some time now slipping out of his mouth.

The reaction came across as expected. Hadley's expression flickered over with a dark sense of anger, and she gave a short huff of a sigh. "No idea," she said, the words coming across as dry and tart. "I guess we'll figure that out later." Figuring it out, of course, led to the notion that he could be deemed certifiably insane, and therefore, not in charge of his own actions. While something like that was credible, and legal, it just meant that there would be less of a charge against him in the long run for what he had done. It would be something required to look into, should they have to. But it did not mean that Hadley saw the situation as one in which Robert Callaghan would get off without too much of a penalty. She cleared her throat and shook her head to try and clear it. "We're going to need to get a hold of Cass again, too. We tried once, but she didn't answer her phone."

Gerson just nodded once at this, finding that there wasn't much more he could say. Silence hung in between them like a heavy weight. Eventually, Hadley mimicked his jerk of the head. "Right," she exhaled. "I should get back to it, then. I'll pop by the vending machine I guess. Alex is with him right now; the sooner I get back, the sooner he can leave to get something too." The words were deflated and weak, and she turned to start to head back the way that she had come.

Gerson watched her go, his lips pulled down into a concerned frown. He debated over it for a while, but before she left, he did raise his voice and call after her. "Good luck!" Hadley gave the sign that she heard the wish as she gave a small wave without looking back. She just continued down the hall, still in just as much of a rush, as she continued her search for food.

He sighed, his shoulders drooping as he shifted over to hold his chin wearily in his hand. His eyes followed her carefully until she turned the corner out of sight. Then, he turned over to look over his shoulder, to the poster of Hiro that was still hanging up on the board behind him. A thoughtful look crowded his eyes, and, heavily, he turned to pull it down. The top ripped through the metal of the pin that had once held it in place, and Gerson leaned back a little bit in his chair as he surveyed the photo of the smiling boy.

A year, and nothing had shown up.

Now, it had all come together, without warning, in the span of a single night.

They should be happy now. The entire department should be having one huge party, complete with balloons and streamers and confetti and cake. There should be celebrating and laughing and nothing else at all. At this thought, Gerson frowned and turned, setting the paper aside on his desk. His forehead creased, and his eyes clouded over. He let his gaze linger for a few moments more on the paper before he turned and went back to his work on the computer.

They should be happy, after all of this.

But somehow, whatever triumph was collected, was just hollow and empty.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It was silent again. Funnily enough, the quiet that seemed to permeate hospitals was different than just the regular kind. Somehow, it was tense and peaceful, all at the same time. Maybe it was a byproduct of the fact that so many different people were here all for different reasons. Some were happy and content, bright-eyed for the recovery that was bound to come their way. Yet some were the exact opposite— they were full of dread and confusion and pain.

So the two of those atmospheres were just left to collide, and leave this odd sort of quiet to linger over everything as a whole. Tadashi wasn't sure which part of the spectrum that they were on at the moment. They were probably somewhere in between the panic and the relief, which probably made the stifling manner of tranquility all the more fitting.

At around two in the morning, Hiro had been taken down to surgery— for the doctors to fix his back and his leg. The 'how' of it all was something that Tadashi didn't particularly want to know. He had asked about the leg, when it was first mentioned that Hiro would be going away again. And his stomach had been absolutely turned over when he had been told that the doctors would have to break Hiro's leg again just so that they could set it again— correctly this time. The mental image of that was enough to make Tadashi abhor any information on what they could possibly do to his baby brother to fix his back.

Hiro had been gone for ages— by the time he was returned, the sun was up above the horizon. Despite the worry that had been inflicted by the passage of time, however, he looked much better. His leg was in a cast, he seemed to be laying a little straighter, and he was right back to sleeping soundly. Tadashi and Aunt Cass had taken their customary stance on either side of the child's bed, their hands clasped tightly in their laps and their fervent gazes only straying from Hiro long enough to glance nervously between one another.

The pair of them had become experts at sitting watch over him, by this point. Hiro had woken up before, but it was only long enough to fall into the brief episode of panic. He'd fallen unconscious shortly after, and he had stayed that way ever since. Tadashi was almost disappointed. He wanted nothing more than to be able to actually _talk_ with his little brother. Just to have a simple _conversation._ It had been a year of not even being able to even see Hiro's smile. The fact that it was still being kept from him every passing minute was just as heartbreaking.

But Tadashi couldn't bring himself to feel any sort of resentment or bitterness. Hiro must be exhausted— in _every_ sense of the word. Sleep was only natural right now— that was what the nurse had told them in passing one of the times she had checked up on his condition. So Tadashi and Aunt Cass were resigned to wait, sitting idly at the bedside of the sleeping Hiro. Time passed like this— Tadashi was starting to adopt his aunt's habit of avoiding eye contact with the clock. He just sat and looked over Hiro. At his bruised face, his stitched cheek, his burned arm— all of it. Trying in vain to piece the puzzles of this nightmare into something coherent.

Tadashi was getting used to this odd quiet that pressed itself down over their shoulders. It wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't uncomfortable all the same. He accepted it, at the very least. He even sagged forward, propping his head on his elbow as his eyes began to sting and grow heavy. He hadn't slept for ages, and by this point, he could feel the aching set deep inside of his bones. Yet as soon as he started to nod off and sleep, a sudden shrill noise ripped through the silence.

Tadashi jerked, his eyes flying wide open as he sat up straight. Aunt Cass did the same, her hand flying back to her pocket as she wrenched out her phone. Both of their eyes drilled over to Hiro, for fear that the incoming call had woken him up. But, thankfully enough, he still remained completely oblivious. It was like nothing had happened at all.

Aunt Cass stood up from her chair, turning and rushing over to the corner of the room. She answered the phone and said a soft hello; she didn't dare speak in anything more than a whisper. "Hello?" she hissed, throwing a concerned look over her shoulder to where Hiro was resting. "I-I can't really talk right now, my nephew is—" She broke off, her eyes widening slightly. Tadashi wilted, confused as he looked from his aunt to his brother. She seemed stressed, reaching up to draw a hand through her hair, which was already more than a mess.

She closed her tired eyes, a just-as-exhausted sigh passing through her lips. "Do I have to?" she asked. There was a long period in which nobody talked; where she just listened to the other end of the conversation with her lips pressed tightly together. Tadashi resorted to looking down at Hiro again. He frowned and reached over, grabbing the top of the blanket and drawing it up so that it was snug to his brother's chin. "Right now, though?" Cass pressed, her quiet voice growing a little strained. "I would do whatever I possibly could to help, but…can I just have a little bit more time?"

A pause.

"No, I know. I guess…I guess that makes sense."

Another one.

"I suppose I could. Just for a little bit. He's asleep right now, so..." She bit down on her lower lip, stifling yet another exasperated exhale. "Right. You're welcome." She turned to abruptly hang up, shoving the device back down into her pocket. She retraced her steps back to the hospital bed and lingered there silently for a few moments. There was a pained smile on her face by now, and she leaned over to plant the lightest of kisses on top of Hiro's head. He still did not respond.

Aunt Cass weaved around the bed to go over to Tadashi, planting a similar kiss on his cheek as she squeezed his shoulder gently. "I'm going to go," she murmured, Tadashi immediately stiffening in bemusement. She winced a bit at his reaction, but just shook her head. "I've got to go and talk to someone at the police station," she whispered. It was clear by the look on her face, she wished to do anything but. "They need a…a statement or— or something like that." Her gaze strayed back to Hiro, and she deflated even more. "But…I-I figured that on the way back I could maybe…bring some of his things for him. Something from— well, something from home. I can bring a change of clothes, too. For us."

Tadashi followed her stare, his nerves grating by this point. She was going to _leave_? "Do they need you right now?" he asked, attempting to match her volume as best he could. Hiro probably wasn't about to wake up soon, given that he had undergone two harsh surgeries. All the same, he didn't want Hiro to get up unless it was absolutely necessary. "Don't you want to— don't you want to wait so that—" He seemed to be lost for words. He broke off for a moment, grimacing as his lips pressed down to create a hard line. Only then did he double back and try to correct himself. "What happens if he wakes up?"

"He probably won't, honey," she replied, her expression worn as she looked back one last time at Hiro. "He'll probably sleep until I get back— and I'll get back as soon as I can. I just need to get down there and answer some questions. I asked if I could have some time, but they said that the sooner I can do it, the better. They need as much as they can get. To— you know, so they can—" She couldn't finish. Instead, she just let the thought die on her tongue.

She simply couldn't get it out.

Tadashi's shoulders drooped. "But what do I do if he wakes up?" he repeated uselessly.

Her face fell. "I'll be back as soon as I can, honey. Until then…if he wakes up, just…just try and be as normal as you can. That's— that's probably what he'll want the most." By the look on Tadashi's face, he wasn't too comforted by the advice, and Aunt Cass didn't seem to be either. "Just— try your best. I know you will; you always do." Tadashi still didn't seem enthused; he just stared at Hiro sorrowfully, as if he was in mourning. Seeing this, Cass stooped down one last time to plant yet another kiss on his cheek. "It'll be fine." Her voice stayed quiet, but the bracing encouragement that was underneath it was still able to be picked up. "I know it will. It can't get any worse from here— it can only get better."

"Right," Tadashi mumbled, looking down at his hands in his lap. "Right— I know. I…I know."

"He's still Hiro," she promised. Tadashi lifted his gaze at this. To Hiro's short hair, to his boney frame, to his beaten face, and to his warped arm. To all the cuts and all the bruises that marred what should have been an uplifting and relieving sight. There was a lump in his throat and a sting to his eyes, yet he struggled to ignore it. At least until Aunt Cass left.

And thankfully enough, she seemed to be forcing herself away. She started to drift back towards the door, picking up her things from where she had left them. Her gaze kept flickering back to her two nephews, and he realized that her stare was hollower than it had been before. In the back of his mind, Tadashi tried to remember a time in the past year that it hadn't been empty, though. To him at least, this stare was normal. He had handled this void gaze for a little more than twelve consecutive months. Now he was just left to wonder whether or not it would come to an end now. Or whether or not it would be made all the more worse.

What would he do if his brother reverted into some kind of shell? What would he do if Hiro took the role that Aunt Cass had adopted in his absence? If all the light that had used to be in his eyes before all this completely died out? What if all that was left of Hiro was a husk of what he used to be? What would Tadashi do then?

Everything was supposed to be fixed once they found Hiro. But what if it wouldn't be?

Aunt Cass turned and left the room, sliding the glass door behind her silently— not making a single sound. Tadashi turned to watch her wave and start briskly down the hall until she turned and corner and was gone. Then he just turned and looked back, reverting to the thing he had been doing going on more than twenty-four hours now: watching over Hiro. He was stationed like a guard by the boy's side, watching over him attentively as he slept. And there he sat, completely still and completely silent as he listened to the singular sound of Hiro's breaths as they went in and then went out.

He simply watched, unable to do anything else.

He just sat and made sure that his baby brother was okay, ultimately knowing in the back of his mind that the effort was coming far too late.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

An hour or two passed. At least, that's what he guessed was the case. Though the curtains were drawn tightly over the windows of the hospital room, Tadashi figured that by now the sun was probably well up in the sky. His stomach was empty and growling by this point, and his muscles and joints were getting stiffer from sitting in one place for so long. Every so often he would get up and pace, just for a lack of anything better to do. He would just walk from one wall to the other, his hands in his pockets as he tried to distract himself as best he could.

But he couldn't keep up walking for too long before paranoia had him fleeing back to his brother's side. He didn't want to leave him for too long, even if it was just to walk a couple feet in one direction. Against himself and any better judgement he had, he was worried that whenever he turned to look back, Hiro would be gone. Or every time he blinked, Hiro would disappear and leave only rumpled sheets behind him. He still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that his baby brother was here and safe and sound. It had been too long— the shock had been too great. He was waiting for a wake-up call. Some kind of shout to bring him out of a nightmare he hadn't realized he had fallen into.

No such luck.

Tadashi was sitting back down again, holding his head in his hands as he tried to remember what day it was. Suddenly everything seemed a little bit too jumbled-up to keep track of. He turned down to his pocket, wriggling out his phone and turning it on. Immediately, the light that glared off of the screen caused him to recoil and hiss underneath his breath. He hadn't realized how dim it actually was in the ICU room. Wearily, he exhaled and brushed it off. His heart sank a little bit at what was reflected back at him.

Sunday. Noon.

Tomorrow was Monday then.

Tomorrow was…school.

Or…was it?

He glanced over at Hiro, finding that the lump in his throat was resurfacing. Then he tuned and glanced at the television that was across the room. There were two remotes that were on top of the bedside table adjacent to Hiro. One looked like it was for the bed— it would control whether or not it went up or down. But the other was designated for the TV. He looked anxiously from the remote to Hiro, biting down on his lower lip as he agonized over what he should do. Surely…if he turned the volume way down…he could just _see_ if there was anything on about it? Just to see? Would it even be worth it?

He turned, grabbing up the slim controller. He levelled it to point towards the TV and pressed the 'power' button, immediately turning down the sound even before it turned on. He got up from his chair and, once again throwing a concerned look back at his sleeping brother, got right up close to the screen. It turned on initially to some default channel that listed all of the other ones that were available. The sound of soft jazz playing in the background was barely able to be heard, and Tadashi felt a small touch of relief that he had kept it from blasting out of the speakers.

Tadashi's mouth moved silently as he mumbled to himself, his eyes narrowed a little bit as he searched down the list of options. _There_. Feeling a sense of dread open up like a pit in his stomach, Tadashi typed in the correct number that would translate into the news station. It took a moment to buffer in between selections, and Tadashi crossed his arms tightly over himself to try and curb any rising anxiety. He would watch for two minutes. Two minutes, and then he would turn it back off.

He wasn't sure where the limitation came from, exactly. Was it because he didn't want to upset himself, or was it because he didn't want to upset Hiro? Or maybe it was because he didn't want to risk waking Hiro up, even though the TV sound was still way down? Or maybe it was because, despite all this wondering, he was just too afraid to bring himself to find out what was really going on— or what had really happened.

When the station finally tuned in, Tadashi grimaced at the sight of a reporter. She was bundled up thanks to the freezing weather, and her nose was a bright red, signaling that she had probably been out there for quite some time. But the frigid weather was not what elicited the sharp response from the young man. What caused the flinch was the fact that behind her, serving as a backdrop to whatever she was saying, was the San Fransokyo Institute of Science and Technology. She wasn't exactly on campus— she was probably just far enough to be _technically_ off of school property. However, Tadashi knew every little detail of every little building that made up the place that he had deemed a second home. There was no mistaking that this was his college.

The reporter was in the middle of talking when he flipped on the station. She was clutching her microphone tightly in gloved hands, and every so often a gust of wind would come by, and her long hair would fly back to get in her face. "…truly terrible from what we are hearing," she was saying, her expression pained as it looked into the camera. Tadashi took in a slow breath, trying to brace himself as best he could. "It's just an idea that's never been even _thought_ of before. One of San Fransokyo's best and brightest – a _world-renowned_ scientist – is now being found out as the man who had the missing Hiro Hamada all this time. Twelve months and five days is how long Doctor Robert Callaghan held Hiro Hamada in his house, before the police could arrive to help.

"Neighbors witnessing the confrontation reported that upon being seized by the police, Robert Callaghan was _claiming_ that Hiro Hamada was _actually_ his daughter Abigail, a woman that had died at the age of twenty-six before this incident. Police have acknowledged this statement and just released the explanation that Hiro Hamada had been taken by Robert Callaghan late Friday November 14th. Hiro Hamada had been walking late at night when Callaghan hit him with his car, and then proceeded to drive away with him under the false pretense that he would take the young boy to the hospital. From that night on, Hiro Hamada had been forced to act like the scientist's deceased daughter while forced to remain in his home. Robert Callaghan has come to admit to doing this, and has even admitted going so far as to cut the boy's hair to be like hers, and even damaging his eyesight to require him to wear glasses. According to Callaghan, there was nothing wrong with these actions, as Hiro was already like her to begin with."

Tadashi ducked his head, closing his eyes tightly. He could hear the blood roaring in his ears, and he staggered back a little bit to sit down on the end of Hiro's bed. He stared down dully at the floor, just listening numbly as the woman continued on. "When asked what they would do in the wake of what has been revealed, the head of San Fransokyo Institute of Science and Technology, the place of employment of Doctor Robert Callaghan, replied that they would be taking reasonable causes of action. The Institute is scheduled to shut down briefly for a period of time for further police investigation.

"Additionally, the Dean of SFIT has released a statement reassuring the shocked public of the city that the college knew nothing about what was going on. They claim that they were just as much in the dark as the rest of the citizens were concerning the true nature of their most prized professors. However, many parents of students currently attending the college are understandably distraught, and demanding some form of explanation in terms of campus security, faculty members, and—"

Tadashi turned it off. The screen went black, and the reporter's speech was cut off mid-sentence. His eyes were wide, and his breathing was much more elevated than it should have been. A cold sting of horror was crawling up his spine, and, sitting in the darkened hospital room, Tadashi felt as if he was about to be sick. Really? _Really!?_ Those parents— those family members that weren't even _involved_ in this— they had the nerve to complain!? They had the nerve to make it seem like they were the ones that were suffering!? That _they_ were the people who had a right to have a voice in any of this!? _Really!?_

He closed his eyes tightly, letting out a shaky sigh of air. No— no, he couldn't be angry. Not at them. He wasn't angry at them for just being scared— for just being scared that this brand of horror would be transferred over to _them_ so that _they_ would have to live it too. Because that was what he would be doing, if he had been lucky enough to be on the one on the other side of all this. He knew the person he was angry at. He just didn't want to face it.

He thought of what it all meant. He thought of Hiro being hit by a car, just for the sole purpose of being unable to fight back when he was taken. He thought of Hiro being forced to act like some girl that had died long before him. He thought of Hiro spending day in and day out having to go through all of what was said. It didn't seem right. It seemed like something straight out of a horror film. Damage his eyesight…what had been done to Hiro for him to lose his eyesight? Tadashi turned and looked over to the couch, where the black pair of glasses were still sitting neatly.

He…he actually _did_ need those, then?

Up until this point, Tadashi had been hoping against hope that anything else was the case.

He tried to get himself back under control. He couldn't lose himself— not yet, and not right now. But quickly, he realized that it wasn't him. It wasn't his breathing that was sharply rasping in and out in a haywire manner. The sound of hyperventilation wasn't coming from him; it was coming from behind him. Tadashi stood up from the bed, whirling around quickly.

Hiro was still asleep. He was lying on his back still, and his eyes were still closed. However, his forehead was creased over harshly, and his lips were pulled down into a deep frown. He looked like he was in pain, and Tadashi hurriedly skirted around the bed to try and figure out what was wrong. Had something gone wrong with his injuries? Was he caught on something? With a jolt, he realized that Hiro wasn't gasping in pain. In between each hiccupping breath, his little brother was whimpering in his sleep. The words were too quiet and garbled to make sense of, but Tadashi's heart tore as he heard the amount of fear that thrilled inside of each syllable.

"Hiro?" Tadashi whispered, leaning over and reaching out with a trembling hand. Hiro continued to whine in his sleep, dead to the waking world. His head shook just slightly from side to side, and his lips moved weakly to form words that Tadashi could make sense of. He didn't need to make sense of it though; he could tell that something was very wrong. "Hiro, wake up," he murmured, grabbing his brother's shoulder and shaking it with as much tenderness as he could.

The pressure on him though seemed to only panic Hiro even more. His body went into a small spasm, and his voice got louder— just loud enough to be heard now. The words were grated and harsh against a throat that was completely dry, and the fact made it all the more worse to listen to. "Stop— don't— please, I—"

Tadashi weakened, putting a little bit more effort into shaking him, though it was done so cautiously. The last thing he wanted was to cause him any more pain. But he didn't want to cause him any more panic, either. "Hiro, come on," he said, a little bit louder this time. "Hiro, you've got to get up. It's just a dream, Hiro, come on." He couldn't bear the sight of his brother's face twisted in such panic, and he certainly couldn't bring himself to listen to his brother's unconscious crying. "Hiro. Hiro, you're dreaming. Hiro?"

Hiro just kept crying. It was getting louder now, and clearer. "I don't want to— please I can't do this— I can't do it— I can't—!"

"Hiro!" Tadashi snapped, finally breaking as he resorted to the yell.

But the yell did the trick. Hiro's eyes wrenched themselves open, and he gasped sharply, as if he had taken his first breath after being underwater for a minute and a half. Tadashi stiffened considerably at the harsh wake-up, and his mouth remained halfway open as he struggled to get something out. His eyes were wide as he watched Hiro struggle to recollect himself, and for a second, that was all he could do. He could only stare, horrified at the sight of his baby brother reduced to a fit of panic and fear.

The fog of whatever nightmare he had been going through was still clouding Hiro on all sides. Struggling not to let the same thing happen to him, Tadashi leaned to the side, trying to catch Hiro's eye to help draw him back into reality. "Hiro?" he asked, trying to take care in making his voice gentler. "Hiro, it's alright. It was just a dream, okay? You were just having a dream, it's over now."

Hiro still seemed groggy and out of it. His eyes were bleary as they found Tadashi's, but the older brother still felt a sense of relief at the fact that they were able to latch onto him in the first place. It was already a little bit better than that last time he had been awake, then. Hiro was still breathing heavily, and his voice came out as a pathetic whisper. His eyes were far too bright, and Tadashi felt his gut wrench as he realized that tears were streaking their way down his face. "He…he said that I had to stay," Hiro hissed, the words fractured and broken against his throat. "He said that— that there was no way out. That— that everyone else was gone. I was alone. I was— I was alone, I was all alone, I—"

"Hey. Hey, hey, hey." Tadashi leaned over a little bit, trying to offer some scrap of comfort by holding gently to his brother's shoulder. When that didn't seem to be enough, he turned to hold as tightly as he dared to his hand. "Listen to me, okay?" he asked, keeping his voice slow and soothing. Hiro was still breathing a little erratically, but it was slowly beginning to even out. The heartbeat monitor he was hooked up to was starting to slow down as well. They were little details, but Tadashi was willing to hang onto them with all he had. "It was a nightmare. You were just dreaming— you're in the hospital. You've been here for two days. Nothing is going to hurt you. No _one_ is going to hurt you. Especially not…" He trailed off for a moment, having to swallow back the thickness that was constricting his throat. Weakly, he finished: "Especially not him."

Hiro continued to struggle to calm himself down. Tadashi took to silence, giving him the space that was probably needed for him to do such a thing. The younger of the two blinked, trying to clear the fuzziness that was clinging to him bit by bit. He turned, literally having to drag his head to look around, as if it weighed a million pounds. There was a ghost of a grimace on his face as he did this, and Tadashi watched with a heavy expression as his younger brother took in the blankets that were covering him, and the gauze that was stretched over his skin, and the needles that were inserted into his wrist.

He blinked slowly. Tadashi could literally see him forcing himself to take one thing and connect it to another. Eventually he did so, and his foggy eyes began to clear little by little bit. He opened his mouth to say something as he turned. However, in doing so, complete agony sliced through his back, and he stiffened, his eyes flying wide as his mouth stretched into a soundless scream of pain. It was like his spine was on fire, each vertebrae was made up of tiny little knives that were slicing him through from the inside out.

"Hiro, Hiro, you probably shouldn't move," Tadashi blustered. He tried to keep him still, though the effort was not done without heartache. Hiro was reduced back down to a fit of breaths that were punctured with pain-filled gasps. He closed one eye tightly in a flinch, but he did force himself to relax. He sank backwards, the pillow and the mattress of the bed nearly swallowing his tiny frame. "The doctors did a lot of work," Tadashi explained softly. "They fixed your leg…and your back. Just this morning, actually. It was…it'll probably start to feel much better. Once the goes away…I mean…"

"Fix my…?" Hiro did that same, slow blink. Tadashi had to wonder whether or not he was all the way there yet in terms of mentality. Hiro turned and looked down, this time taking care not to actually move his body. His eyes found the cast that was around his leg, and a sense of surprise seemed to settle over him. "My leg is— they fixed my leg?" Tadashi nodded and gave a small hum. The tiniest hint of a smile tugged at the edge of Hiro's lips, though the expression did not manage to reach his glazed eyes. "I forgot my leg could be fixed," he mumbled loosely.

Tadashi's face fell, and an expression of piteous sorrow crawled into his gaze. Hiro blinked, turning his head with that same momentous effort so that he could look over at him. When he did, he seemed confused at the look that was on his older brother's face. This confusion led to him have one last realization. Tadashi perked as he saw Hiro sharpen into another sense of anxiety. "Where's…where's Aunt Cass?" he slurred. He was looking smaller by the second. "Is she…did something— did something happen? Did something happen to— to her?"

"No! No, no, no!" Tadashi rejected in a rush. The volume of his voice was enough to make Hiro jump, and he immediately regretted it with a small flinch. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "No, it's just…no, she's fine. She left to go get a few things." He wasn't sure what he should talk to Hiro about— what he should make Hiro aware of, and what he should keep away from him. At the moment, Hiro seemed right on the brink between fuzziness, and total clarity. Tadashi wasn't exactly sure to what degree or extent he was actually mentally present.

But that wasn't even the real reason Tadashi didn't want to delve into things. Hiro already seemed so fragile and weak. A nightmare had just turned him into an incoherent mess of fear and panic. Tadashi was sick just after witnessing such an event. Seeing that happen all over again was the last thing he wanted to do. And that was his job now, wasn't it? His job from this point on would be to protect Hiro. He would keep him as safe and as shielded as he possibly could, and that was a promise.

So he avoided telling him exactly what Aunt Cass had left to do.

"She'll be back soon," Tadashi promised instead. "She said she'll be right back."

Hiro let out a ragged breath. He grimaced and looked down at the mattress again. "But…" There was a long pause in between them. Tadashi raised his eyebrows, a little concerned as he leaned forward more. Hiro's eyes landed on Tadashi's arms, which were crossed on top of the blankets. His lower lip trembled a little bit, and he took in a sharp breath of air. When he spoke again, his voice was tight and clenched— nearly an octave higher than what it normally was. "But…you'll stay here…right?"

Tadashi stilled, too surprised by the question and the emotion that was behind it to reply.

Hiro's expression crumbled a little bit more, and he took in that same sob of a breath before he asked again. "You won't leave me alone, will you? You'll….you'll stay?"

Tadashi shook his head quickly to try and clear it. "O-Of course, Hiro," he said, the words almost too hard to get out properly. "Of course I'll stay with you. Always. From now on, I will always stay right by your side. Okay?" He craned his neck so that he could maintain eye contact. "I promise. I'm not going anywhere. Throughout this whole thing, I'll be right here. With you."

Hiro held his stare, not doing anything for a long moment. Eventually, his cool front collapsed, and his lower lip started to tremble. His eyes began to sting and fill up with water, and his breathing escalated into those noisy gasps. But he gave a couple of nods, trying his best to keep a lid on everything. "Okay," he whimpered. "Okay…okay…" But even as the soft words were exhaled out, Hiro still looked completely miserable and vulnerable. His shoulders shook a little bit, and he nodded his head loosely. "Okay…okay…okay…" he whimpered, barely able to be heard.

Tadashi looked at him as if he were a stranger. Because, at the moment, that seemed to be the most fitting title for him. Before Hiro had left, he had been rash and unthinking. To a fault, for a majority of the time. He used to always be by himself, and he used to always make it clear that he much rather preferred his own company. Whenever Aunt Cass had hugged him tightly, he had always made some excuse to shrug out of the embrace; or at the very least, he had rolled his eyes and worn an expression of exhausted tolerance. He was never one to be paranoid about isolation; sometimes, he would go down and be by himself in the garage for days working on some new project. He used to _love_ being alone. He would have to _dragged_ back into company.

"Hiro?" Tadashi rasped, struggling to wrap his mind around this.

Hiro's eyes were closed tightly. He looked like he was in pain again. His jaw was locked awkwardly, and every so often his lips would move and then abruptly stop, as if he was stopping himself short before he could speak or get anything out. Tadashi's eyebrows pulled together in concern, and he leaned forward a little bit more. "Hiro, what's wrong?" he asked. "Do you want something? Do you— do you want me to get you something? Or someone? I can call the nurse, if you need her." Hiro didn't reply; he just continued to struggle in between speaking and staying silent. The sight of his brother left to flounder in such a state was enough to stab straight through Tadashi's chest, and he swallowed hard, finding that his eyes were beginning to prick and sting. "Hiro, what's wrong? You can get it out."

Hiro sniffed, the simple motion causing him excess pain as he flinched away. He took in a sharp breath and forced his eyes to open again so that he could look over to his brother. They were teary and watery; or at least the eye that wasn't swollen was, but Tadashi could only imagine the other was doing the same thing. "Can you…?" He stopped again. The look that was on his face made it seem like he had just seen a ghost. Or maybe he _did_ see something that Tadashi couldn't; something that was equally as horrifying. "Can—?"

"Can I what?" Tadashi mumbled, reaching up and trying to wipe at his eyes in a way that would not draw attention. "What do you need? I'll do anything." He would do anything to make up for the _nothing_ he had done while Hiro was held captive by his own teacher. The person that Tadashi saw every day. The person that Tadashi had trusted most in this world, next to Aunt Cass. The person that Tadashi saw almost as a father to him. The person that—

"Can you hold me?"

Tadashi immediately went rigid, his eyes growing to be ten times their normal size as the desperate question sliced through his line of thought. The words came out as nothing more than a tight sob that wracked at Hiro's tiny frame. The sound alone was enough to cause Tadashi an unexpected blow of physical pain. He tensed and for a moment, he was completely floored. He didn't know what to do. How to act. Cass' words rang in his head. _Just try and be as normal as you can. That's probably what he'll want most._ How was Tadashi supposed to act _normal_? How could he look at Hiro struggling to merely keep himself together, and keep an easygoing smile on his face? How was he supposed to pretend that nothing had happened, and nothing had changed?

He bit down on his lower lip, taking in a harsh breath of his own as he gave a quick nod. Hiro was crying again, shaking from head to toe as if he was suddenly freezing. Tadashi scooted his chair right up to the side of the hospital bed and leaned forward, reaching out and wrapping him up into a hug as best he could. The reach alone was awkward, but there was an added weight of pressure thanks to the fact that Tadashi did not want to cause Hiro any additional harm or pain. He gingerly made sure that with the hug, there was no pressure or movement in Hiro's back. He was careful to make sure that his touch was light enough not to pain him, but present enough at the same time to make sure he was comforted.

He could feel Hiro trembling underneath his touch, and as Tadashi's arms wrapped around him, he dissolved into another fit of soft sobs and cries. Tadashi cautiously rubbed his shoulder, finding a way that he could do so without jarring him or any of his injuries. Weakly, he tried to figure out what else he could do. "It's okay," he said, his own voice thick and congested. "I'm here. We're here. And…and we're so…we're so sorry," The sentence got quieter and quieter as it went. Tadashi sniffed, his eyesight blurring with water. "I promise, if we had known…if we had just known…"

Hiro didn't reply. He just continued to cry, shaking as he tried to find solace in Tadashi's physical touch.

And Tadashi tried to find solace in saying all the thing he knew were empty and meaningless. "If we had just known, we would have never left you there. We were looking…we were looking for so long. We just couldn't find you. I…I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry…"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Another hour passed, and all the fuzziness that had still clung to Hiro was gone. Like smoke that clouded the air, it eventually dissipated into nothing. It cleared, and you could finally see all that the fog that concealed away before. Tadashi was hoping that once this did go away, he could see a little bit more of his brother. He hoped that he might be able to look at Hiro and see that old spark of mischief or intelligence that he was so well-known for. He hoped that he would be able to look at him, smile, and breathe out a huge sigh of relief. "There you are," he had looked forward to saying. " _There's_ my brother."

But he didn't get that feeling. Hiro's eyes weren't filled with that lilting sense of humor, and they weren't lighting up with a million ideas or jokes or laughs. He couldn't really describe the look that was on his baby brother's face. Because he had never seen it before on him. It wasn't exactly confusion…because it was clear that he realized and could make sense of what was going on. It wasn't exactly sadness…because Tadashi could see that Hiro was more comforted and more at ease whenever he saw him. It was…just something that Tadashi could not place. Something…he had never seen his brother wear as an expression.

He tried to place it, sitting there beside him as he tried to distract his younger brother as best he could. Finding conversation was a hard thing to do; he wasn't sure what would make Hiro upset, and what would be a safe topic. He resigned himself to telling a few stories of his friends. Before, Hiro never was too interested in listening to the silly tales of their misadventures. There was only so many times you could pretend to be invested in _another_ story of Fred getting his hand caught in something. But now, Hiro listened quietly, not the slightest bit bored. There was a tiny hint of a smile on his face as Tadashi told him about the time that Fred had tried opening a pickle jar and ended up going to the emergency room. It had happened about a month ago.

"So his hand was completely stitched up— from the end of his middle finger all the way down to where his wrist started. And Honey Lemon and I took him home, because he couldn't hold the steering wheel, right? So we're driving him home, and he starts complaining that he _still_ wants a pickle. So he won't stop complaining until we decide to go to the store, and there was this Girl Scout that was outside trying to raise money for charity. And you will _not_ believe what he did! He goes _straight_ up to her and—"

"Hiro?"

The voice was quiet, but it was enough to completely cut Tadashi off. Both he and Hiro turn to look over in the direction of the voice, and sure enough, Aunt Cass was standing in the entrance of the hospital room. She was holding a bag that looked packed to the brim. Her eyes were wide and teary, and her face was a little flushed. But there was a broad grin on her face as she looked inside to see her two nephews together at long last— together and talking.

Hiro's eyes narrowed as he struggled to see her. But he knew the voice; he had spent what seemed like forever trying to remember the tone of it, and the sweetness and the love that was there as well. He had comforted himself night after night just by trying to call it to mind, and now it was suddenly back. A smile broke over his face, though there was also a sense of unease to him at the fact that he wasn't able to clearly see her. All he could see was a blur of color. "Aunt Cass?" he asked, his voice still small and scratchy.

Aunt Cass let out a breath that she had been holding in. Her smile grew even bigger, if such a thing was even possible, and she started to rush inside. "Hey, baby," she said, her voice only managing a small whisper. "How are you? Oh, I'm sorry I wasn't here. I-I went out to get a few things." Tadashi blinked at this, his eyes flickering between the two of them a little nervously.

But thankfully enough, Aunt Cass was moving on. She turned, opening the bag and grinning widely. "I got your pillow for you, if you wanted it." Hiro blinked, seeming a little bit confused by this. Or maybe surprised was the better word. As if he had forgotten that he actually had belongings at home that were specifically his. "And I got your laptop. I brought a few cookies too, from the café. In case you were hungry."

He began to light up at this, his eyes widening a little bit. "From the café?" he asked, sounding floored.

Tadashi frowned a little bit at this, deflating.

Aunt Cass blinked, looking from the bag to her nephew. She hesitated just for a moment, her mouth halfway open as she just stared at him. But she recovered quickly, grinning from ear-to-ear once more as she started to nod vigorously. "Yeah! Yes, I brought some of the new favorites. I think you'll like them." She reached in and took out one of the treats she had brought. Wrapped up in clear plastic wrap was a chocolate cookie, drizzled over with strawberry icing and brightly-colored sprinkles. Hiro looked down, blinking a few times as he tried to make sense of the smudge that was in front of him. Frustration began to burn at him as he realized that no matter what he did, everything was still warped and distorted.

Aunt Cass didn't seem to notice though. She was still smiling, encouraged now as she let the cookie down on top of his blankets. Maybe he would be hungry enough to eat it. He hadn't had anything at all since he had gotten to the hospital, and it was painfully obvious that he had not had much to eat before that, either. "I got some of your clothes too." Clothes? "I know it probably won't be a while until you're allowed out of the hospital scrubs…but, I just thought it would be nice for you to have it. You know— when they let you change."

His clothes…his own clothes. Not some weird flannel, or a T shirt that said something he had never been a part of, like: 'Senior Kidnapping Breakfast.' It would be his own familiar clothes. When he was in Callaghan's house, he only got to wear his own clothes sporadically, and he only had the one outfit. His own clothes…food from the bakery…was it truly a real thing? Could he really have all of these things back? And more? "Um…could you— do you think that that…?" He trailed off, frowning as his face fell. He couldn't get a few words out before he stopped himself prematurely.

Cass perked, looking injured at the apparent difficulty he was having. "What's that, baby?" she asked.

"My…my, um…" He blinked, grimacing at the pull in his lip when he spoke. "My glasses," he mumbled eventually. Tadashi and Aunt Cass both seemed confused and disturbed at the words. Hiro quieted just a little bit, but went on after a quick gasp. "I can't…I want to see it. I want to see _you_ , and…I can't. It's all…jumbled up…" Ever since he had cracked his head on the bed, Hiro hadn't been able to see clearly without the black frames. Part of him had the nerve to think that it would eventually clear up after a while. But no such thing was the case.

"Oh…" Aunt Cass drew back slightly, her expression going blank and unreadable for half a second. But then she stirred, clearing her throat and rousing herself from the brief stupor. "Right. Yes, of course. Of course, I'm sorry. They're— they're right over here." She turned and fetched them from the couch, pausing for about five seconds just taking them in before she retraced her steps. "Here you go, sweetie," she murmured, unfolding them and putting them gently on his face.

He grimaced at first, the pressure on his bruised face and eyes a little nauseating. He knew that he would end up taking it off sooner or later, because he wouldn't be able to stomach it for long. But with the glasses on, he could finally see every single detail. He turned, looking at Aunt Cass and Tadashi fully for the first time. And he felt a strike of relief like a punch straight to the gut. They were exactly like he remembered them. Aunt Cass still had that same slightly-curly hair. Tadashi was still so tall…maybe even taller. They both looked so concerned and so tired. Because…because they were worried about him.

' _They don't care about you like I do! If they loved you, don't you think they would be looking for you?'_

Hiro smiled, the expression thin and tired. "You guys look the same," he whispered.

They glanced at one another. Cass' eyes flooded with pain, and Tadashi's clouded over as well.

Hiro let his head drop limply to the side. His eyes flickered down, and the grin on his face faded into a much more somber expression as he looked down at his right arm. At the burned and twisted stretch of skin that glared back at him. His features became swamped and hindered with sorrow. He blinked slowly, and when he spoke up next, his voice was thick and soft. Tears stung at his eyes, and he repeated himself in a weak whisper. "You guys…look the same."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

When the nurse came in, they were all surprised. Without any warning, the young woman strode inside, a clipboard in her hands, and her face split into a wide grin. Most of the workers here were armed with such a bright outward appearance. Being that this was a children's hospital, it was something that came hand-in-hand with the streamers and decorations in the halls that were left over from Thanksgiving. And her voice was just as cheery, despite the darkened room, and the sight of the boy that was inside of it.

"Hiro Hamada!" she cheered. Aunt Cass had been starting to doze off, and Tadashi was once again in the middle of trying to pass off a story of his friends in the knowledge that that was probably the safest topic to broach. Hiro was listening; or at least, Tadashi hoped that he was. Really, it just looked like he was just staring off into space. But, not wanting to resort to asking outright, Tadashi just hoped that he was listening. So he was almost glad for the disruption, as he and Aunt Cass immediately turned their attention over to the newcomer.

Hiro was less reactionary. He blinked a few times and stirred, as if he was being roused out of a dream. He turned only about five seconds after his aunt and his brother. And even then, he looked desolate and vacant. The nurse's smile was completely unfazed though. She just walked inside and stopped a few feet away from the bed before continuing. "There's the boy of the hour. I've been waiting quite a while to speak with you, young man. This is the first time you've really been up since you've gotten here."

Hiro was tight-lipped. He was completely silent as he just looked at the other.

Aunt Cass fidgeted a little bit, recognition flashing through her eyes. She had seen this person before— this was the person who had met them in the waiting room initially, and it was the person who had told her what would be happening to Hiro when he was taken down to surgery. She had also come in once or twice to check on Hiro and his progress, but she had never talked when she came in for precaution— she was never inclined to wake Hiro up on accident. Now would be the nurses' first chance to speak with him.

Cass offered the familiar face as big a smile as she could muster. "Hello!" She got up in a hurry and went over to shake her hand. "I was beginning to wonder when you would come back."

Despite the fact that the gesture was a little awkward, the woman only smiled and accepted it wholeheartedly. "Hello, Cass," she replied. "I just came up here to see Hiro, now that I heard he was up and talking." She turned towards the bed, offering the young boy a tender smile. "It's great to see you awake! You're quite the big topic around here. How lucky am _I_ to be your nurse, huh? My name is Ami." It was apparent by the tone of her voice that she was trying to be as bright and bubbly as she could. Most likely in the hopes that her attitude would spread to everyone else.

Tadashi watched Hiro anxiously, his chest feeling tight at the look that was on his little brother's face. Hiro looked a little bit daunted, and only managed a small stammer of a reply. "I…" His forehead creased and he broke off. He just tried to grin, though his eyes weren't invested in the look whatsoever.

She softened a little bit, tilting her head to the side. "So, Hiro, how much pain are you in, would you say?"

Hiro frowned. "It…it uh…it hurts to move. A lot."

"That's to be expected," Ami reassured him. "You had quite a lot to fix, after all. I can see whether or not I can increase the amount of pain medication you're being given, but some discomfort is natural, unfortunately." She cleared her throat briefly. "But the most important part is that you're awake now. And you don't have any hindrances there? Are you experiencing any…confusion? Dizziness? Any time lapses since you've been awake? Fading in and out of everything?"

Hiro swallowed. The questions came like rapid fire, and he had to force himself to slow down and try to digest each one. "I…kind of," he mumbled. "It's…a lot." He went quiet after this, swallowing as his eyes flickered back down to the blanket that was on him.

Ami's smile wavered for the briefest of seconds. Only Aunt Cass, who was looking over at her, noticed the shift. However, it was gone as soon as it came in the first place. "That's to be expected too, Hiro," she reassured. "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? Just to maybe…see where you are? Mentally? You had quite an injury on the back of your head; I want to make sure that it hasn't affected you, even if it's a little old." Hiro didn't reply audibly, but he did give the smallest of nods. So Ami straightened looked down at her clipboard. "Can you tell me where you are right now, Hiro?"

Tadashi found himself breathing a sigh of relief as Hiro was able to answer. "A hospital. In…in San Fransokyo." The last part was a little bit unsure, compared to the first. But it was correct, nevertheless.

Ami lit up like a lightbulb. "Right!" she said. "And…can you tell me the name of the restaurant underneath your house?"

He continued to stare numbly ahead. "The Lucky Cat Café."

 _I've never really been there to sit down and eat, but I've heard good things. I could always visit now. I know_ exactly _where it is._

He closed his eyes tightly, a small whimper escaping his throat before he could stop it.

"Hiro?" Ami asked, taking a few steps forward. "Are you alright? Does something hurt?"

 _Hurting you is the_ last thing _I want to do, Hiro._

He opened his eyes again, finding his vision blurred all over again, despite the glasses. He managed a small shake of the head.

Ami seemed thoughtful as she surveyed him. Her voice was soft as she asked: "Would you like me to stop?"

He paused. Shook his head again.

Ami glanced over at Aunt Cass quickly before turning back to Hiro, regaining her smile. "Do you think you could tell me what two times two is?" she asked. "I bet you could; pretty easy stuff, right?"

 _You're a smart kid; aren't you, Hiro?_

His lower lip stared to tremble. He sniffed and mumbled thickly: "Four."

She frowned. She cleared her throat a second time. "Do you know what day it is today, Hiro?"

Tadashi was looking at his brother in fear now, sensing his rising panic and discomfort.

Hiro shook his head.

"It's Sunday. It's nearly six, about now. Do you know what month it is?"

"No, I…" He sniffed and choked back a swallow. "No, I don't know. I don't know."

"That's alright," she was quick to say. "It's November. And…" She seemed a little hesitant to ask this next question, but she brought herself to put forward anyway. "Do you know what year it is right now, Hiro?"

The year. What year was it? How long had he been trapped in darkness?

"I don't know," he rasped emptily. "I don't know what year it is."

Ami nodded. "It's 2015, Hiro. It's November 2015."

At first, he didn't react. Then, he closed his eyes again. His forehead creased over, and his lips started to tremble along with his shoulders. Tadashi leaned over and held tight to his hand, looking pained beyond relief as he tried to offer an anchor for him. He started to murmur out gentle reassurances. "It's okay, Hiro. Don't cry…it'll be okay…I promise…please don't cry…" Hiro wasn't able to take the words to heart, though. He was starting to fall into violent tremors all over again, his shaking only causing him excess pain.

Ami looked pained. She decided that she would allow Hiro the chance to calm down and recollect himself, and then she would ask him if he would like something to eat or drink. He was very malnourished in both aspects, and they needed to make sure that he was stronger than he was right now. For the moment at hand now, she turned to address Cass. "Could I speak with you out in the hall?" she asked. "Just for a quick moment."

Cass seemed torn, looking between her and her nephew. Regretfully, she gave a small nod and stood up, a frown weighing down her face as she followed the nurse out. Ami slid the door shut behind them, looking a moment more at Tadashi trying to soothe Hiro before she tore her mind back to the problem at hand. "Just from what I've seen of Hiro so far, I would suggest that we arrange for a Clinical Psychologist to meet with him frequently. He's been through quite a lot; this is already showing in his personality."

Cass blinked, her eyes teary as they flickered in between her and her little guy. "Is…is there someone here for that?" she asked.

"Certainly," she replied. "We have Psychologists on hand to help people who are struggling to recover mentally, and Hiro seems to have quite a long road ahead of him." She wrote something down on her clipboard, her expression thoughtful. "I can get them into touch with you; I think the sooner it happens, the better. But we also need to take care not to rush him. It's a very fragile balancing act that you have to go through with a victim of Hiro's caliber."

She stiffened at the word.

'Victim.'

Aunt Cass turned, looking past the nurse to her nephew. Through the glass, she could see the way his face was twisted and warped into an expression of agony. Tears were rushing down his face, and Tadashi was struggling to try and fix him. His mouth was moving, forming words that Cass could not hear through the window. Weakly, she found that her lips formed the words that she was almost afraid to utter. "Has this…has this ever happened before?" she rasped, her voice almost matching her nephew's hollowness. "Has anything this awful ever happened here?"

This was her baby. She had taken him in as a three-year-old and wiped away his tears. She had taught him how to bake a cake, and she had helped him learn to ride a bike. She had let him sleep in her room whenever he had a nightmare, and she had kissed his boo-boos whenever he fell and got scraped.

She couldn't kiss this boo-boo. She couldn't shoo away these nightmares by curling up with him at night. Standing out in the hall of the hospital room, she suddenly felt as if there wasn't anything at all she could do to try and help him. She was useless. What was the point of her, if she couldn't fulfill the promise she had made to keep him safe and sound?

She was failing.

She _had_ failed.

Ami was a little confused by the question. "I…I'm not sure," she replied. "I…would definitely say that this is something that is truly concerning. Something that…we don't have an _entirely_ large amount of knowledge of." She was trying to be careful with the way she said this, but it was obvious it was just because she did not want to come out and admit the truth of it all to her face. She leaned over and put a hand on her shoulder bracingly. "But we will do all that we can to help him," she vowed.

"What if it won't be enough?" Cass whimpered, her expression stricken and numbed as she looked at the woman in front of her. "What if nothing will be enough?"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Nine p.m. came and went, and Tadashi was far too tired to stay awake any longer. Hiro had fallen back asleep; his eyes were closed and he had not moved for the past two hours. Feeling cluttered and gross in more ways than one, he decided that it would be best to take a shower and maybe see whether or not he could get more than just a few hours of sleep in. He felt drained in every sense of the word, and the couch was starting to call his name imploringly. So he explained himself to Aunt Cass before getting up and leaving. For the past few hours, she had just been laying her head down on the mattress, watching Hiro and letting her hand ghost itself up and down his arm in an easing rhythm.

Tadashi got a change of clothes from the bag that Aunt Cass had brought back and disappeared into the bathroom that was near the couch. A few minutes later, the sound of running water served as background noise to the room. Well— it would have been background noise had the room not been utterly and deathly silent like it was. But even if it was a little loud, it was also soothing, and Cass' own eyes began to grow heavy. Despite the fact she had slept a little bit longer than her eldest nephew had, she was still completely worn. It was hard not to be, in this situation.

She stifled and yawn and started to go so far as to close her eyes, when a soft voice interrupted her. It was a voice that made her snap back into full alert, and even push up from the bed. "Is he angry?" Hiro asked, his eyes open now as he look despondently up at the ceiling. He did not turn to look at his aunt, yet when she did not reply at once, he repeated his tiny little whisper. "Is Tadashi angry with me?" A long pause, before: "Is he mad?"

"'Mad?'" she repeated, wildly confused. She reached up to tuck a lock of her flyaway hair behind her ear. Glancing over her shoulder at the shut door of the bathroom, she turned back to Hiro only with a look of sorrowful bemusement. "Tadashi isn't mad at you, baby. Of course not. He's so relieved that you're back— we both are. Why would you think he would be angry at you?"

Hiro weakened, as did his voice. "He was angry when I…the night I left. I made him angry, I…was stupid…" _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ He sniffed, feeling once again, the now-familiar burn of water in his eyes. "I made him angry, and I ruined everything…."

Cass leaned over, gently brushing the hair out of Hiro's forehead. The motion once again brought to mind the fact that his hair was altered and different, but she shoved the thought away for the moment. She just shook her head. "Honey, I have no idea what you're talking about, but Tadashi isn't mad at you. He loves you, baby; he's so happy you're back." She bit down hard on her lower lip to try and get it to stop shaking before she could go on. "No, honey, he isn't angry. Not one bit. _Nobody_ is angry at you." Her words grew a touch more forceful with this. " _Nobody_ blames you for _anything_ , okay?"

Had he gone that entire year…thinking that Tadashi was mad at him for something that happened earlier? The mental question pretty much slapped her across the face, and she had to make a conscious effort not to let the shock and pity that was inflicted by it show too much. She just struggled to be some form of support. Something that Hiro could listen to and take refuge with. She couldn't show her fear for her nephew, or her disgust for the man that did this to him. She had to hide it.

But with Hiro's next words, the task suddenly became far too impossible.

Continuing to stare emptily upwards, and refusing to turn and meet his aunt's gaze, Hiro rasped out a confession that could have sliced Aunt Cass open, for all the pain that she felt in response to it.

" _I_ blame me."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: Again, I apologize for my absence. And I promise that regular updates will continue once again now that summer will roll itself around. I still have got a lot planned for this story, and in my break, I have also conjured up even more ideas as well— as I'm constantly thinking of how to improve my stories. I'm excited to get them all out, and hopefully juggling my stories will be much easier during a break from school.

I hope I hear from all of you! I missed it! And I hope I can come back to this story really soon!

As always, I apologize for any typos! Seventeen pages at 11:35 at night with school tomorrow…

If you see any glaring issues, as always, just go ahead and pipe on up! I'm glad to fix stuff!


	18. Chapter 18

Waking up was slow and painstaking. Things leaked back to him slowly, piece by gradual piece. First he became aware of the sounds that were around him— the sounds of softly-beeping hospital machines, and the sounds of hushed conversation. He could feel the soft weight of the blankets that were on him, and he could feel the soft plush of the pillow that held his head. Then came the pain— the pain that was strangely all-too present and muffled by medication at the same time. His head felt fuzzy, and there was a twisting sense of nausea rooted in his stomach. Working his eyes open was difficult, and in doing so, he found that he started to feel just a little bit dizzy.

Once he got his eyes to open, he was met with the ceiling of his hospital room. His sight was blurry and out of focus, and he knew that Aunt Cass must have taken his glasses off for him. Aunt Cass…the thought crossed his mind, and he was immediately met with the same small jolt he always experienced whenever he realized what had happened, and connected those dots. Whenever he remembered that he was not back at Callaghan's house, lying down on the wood floor.

Every time he woke up or came back to himself, he was stung with the fact that he was in a bed, far away from where he had been stuck before. That Aunt Cass was hovering anxiously at his side, and Tadashi was bound to be somewhere close as well. Hiro blinked a few times, feeling a pang in his chest as he turned his head. The realization of where he was and what was still happening had jarred him the rest of the way awake, and he was struck with the instant desire to turn and search for his brother or his aunt. The feeling was a sudden onset, and one that, again, he felt continuously.

He needed to _see_ Tadashi— he needed to _feel_ Aunt Cass' hand on his. He needed to know that this wasn't a dream, and he still wasn't stuck in some never-ending cycle of pain and torment. So, despite the muffled pain that ensued, and despite the way his head swam with the motion, he turned to try and find Aunt Cass. Her voice was near him, lowered down into a small whisper. She was on the phone— there were gaps of silence in between her murmurs.

Hiro finally managed to turn his head, and when he did, he was swamped with relief at the sight of his aunt. She was sitting at his bedside, like she always was. And sure enough, her cellphone was pressed against her ear. Her forehead was creased a little bit, and at first, she didn't notice the fact that Hiro had woken up. "I see…" she was murmuring. Hiro was hardly able to hear her, despite the fact that she was only a couple feet away. "No. Thank you for telling me." She was twirling her finger in her hair. A weary smile flickered over his face. She always did that when she was worried. "I appreciate it. And…we'll get in touch soon. Again, I mean. To…you know…"

She still hadn't noticed that Hiro was awake yet. She was looking down at the floor. "Well…no, I'm not sure. We'll _both_ have to wait." There was a certain amount of emphasis added to that word. Another pause, before: "Okay. Thank you, again. For letting us know. And…and yes, we appreciate your condolences. Thank you again." Hiro swallowed hard, finding that the simple action caused a fire of pain to wrap around his throat. His mouth felt dry and hot, and his head was slowly starting to throb and spin as his stomach twisted even more. But none of that was important; he was focusing more on the fact of Aunt Cass than anything else.

She lowered the phone from her ear and hung up. Hiro was growing concerned by the fact that she hadn't noticed him yet, so when her gaze finally _did_ catch on her nephew, he felt a strong rush of relief. She straightened a little bit, a smile immediately warming her face as her gaze locked with her little guy's. "Hey!" she said, her voice still hushed and quiet. She tilted her head to the side, her expression softening. "You're awake! Did I wake you up, honey? I'm sorry. That was— well…that was just a call I had to take. I probably should have stepped outside, but…"

"No, I'm…" Hiro's forehead creased and he shifted a little bit, immediately regretting the action as he grimaced. "I didn't realize that I fell asleep…" he mumbled. It felt like just a second ago he was talking to her, right? He didn't remember even closing his eyes; he just blinked, and all of a sudden he was out of it and groggy. His eyes flickered down to the bed, and he tried to offer out something that was probably supposed to be a laugh. "It's probably…uhm…I just forgot how comfy a bed is."

He meant to just have that be a _normal_ explanation. Like how someone would say that they couldn't have milk because they were lactose intolerant. It made sense, right? In his groggy and slow state of mind, he didn't think twice about it. Because the last bed he had laid down in _was_ his own, a year ago. But as soon as the statement actually left his mouth, he then realized that it was unwise. The words passed over his tongue, and they seemed to hang and suspend themselves in place like some unwanted, yet lingering, presence. Aunt Cass' face fell a little bit, and Hiro was alarmed by the amount of sorrow that cracked its way forward to leak through her initial wall of happiness.

He stiffened, and the fact did not help alleviate any of the stress that was already on his body. Quickly, he turned and looked away from Aunt Cass, down to the blankets that were on him. He ducked away as soon as he came to the conclusion that he had done something wrong— that he had upset her. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, his strained voice breaking the silence in an abrupt and worried fashion. "I didn't mean it."

The apology didn't even fit the situation. It was just the first thing he relapsed back to.

Aunt Cass opened her mouth and started to speak. Her eyes seemed a little misty now, and her voice was a touch thicker. "No, I—"

She was cut off by the sound of the door to Hiro's room sliding open. It was that nurse that he had seen before. Her name…what was her name? His mind spluttered as he tried to grope for some title that he was more than sure he had heard, if not a few times already. But it was like sand slipping through his fingers, and he tried not to let his frustration show too much as she walked in. She was armed with a smile, like she always was when she walked in to check on things. And at the sight of Hiro awake, her grin only grew. "Good morning, Hiro!" she chirped. "Or should I say good night? It's nearly eight."

Beside the bed, Aunt Cass reached up and tried her best to wipe at her eyes in an indiscreet way.

Hiro was acutely aware of it.

The nurse, however, only seemed to have eyes for Hiro. "So, Hiro. You remember my name? We met about two days ago. You've been sleeping quite a lot since then."

Again, he tried to tear apart his brain and search for the correct answer she was waiting to hear. But again, he came up feeling completely stupid and awful. His expression deflated, and he quickly found that he was looking back down at the blankets again. He was memorizing their pattern and stitch work by this point. "No, I…no, I don't remember your name," he murmured. Again, he found it slipping. And again he could not stop the small: "I'm sorry."

Her smile remained where it was. "Don't apologize!" she assured him quickly, her voice sweet as she came over to stop on the other side of the bed. "I wouldn't expect you to remember something as trivial as my name, right?" It sounded like it was supposed to be a joke, but the smile that Hiro plastered onto his face was less than pleasing. Regardless, she swept on as if it was. "My name is Ami. I don't think you've met your other nurse; I think you're always asleep whenever he takes over. He's starting to think you're doing it on purpose," she added teasingly, offering him a small wink.

He tried to keep the smile up. But it was a harder feat to accomplish than one might think.

Sensing the discomfort, Ami cleared her throat. She turned to look at Aunt Cass, who had recovered by now to pay a mindful ear. "So, you went over things with the doctor a while ago about where Hiro is right now health-wise, is that right?" she asked for clarification. Aunt Cass nodded once, and the nurse smiled. "Perfect. Makes my job easier." She looked down at Hiro, clearly more than eager to speak with him. Or maybe that was just the way she was told to approach all her patients. "Okay Hiro, how's your pain now? Is it better? Worse? Still the same? How're you feeling, champ?"

"I'm fine," Hiro murmured, part of him suddenly becoming sidetracked. His eyes flickered back and forth, the boy forcing his head to lift off of the pillow and look around as he realized that there was a significant absence in the room. His heart began to pick up and thud harshly against his chest, and the monitor to his left started to escalate and pick up. Ami immediately looked towards it in concern. "Where's…where's my brother?" Hiro demanded. Cass sat up a little bit more in her chair and started to lean over, but Hiro was quickly getting himself worked up into a panic. "Where's my brother?" he repeated. "Where did he go? Did something happen?"

"Hiro, you've got to calm down, alright?" Ami asked gently. "You can't get yourself worked up, or put any more stress on your body. It's very important that you relax as much as you can." She turned and shot a questioning look over at Cass, who quickly jarred herself into function.

She leaned over and placed her hand on top of Hiro's, the only motion that seemed to offer the most solace to her nephew. Sure enough, he turned over at her, and at the comforting expression on her face, his breathing seemed to slow if only slightly. She smiled gently at him, shoving down all her anger and sorrow and pity she felt at the state that her little boy had now been reduced to. "It's okay, honey," she cooed, reaching over and brushing those pesky bangs out from his eyes. "Tadashi went down to the lobby— his friends stopped by to check in on things. So he just went down to talk to them for a little bit. He'll be right back, though."

Hiro began to relax, however shakily. He looked back front, his expression almost lost for a second.

 _Why did you freak out so much? Like…what the heck? Chill out; you're acting like an idiot._

 _He was gone…he was gone— how_ long _will he be gone? When will he be back? What if he doesn't come back?_

Ami shot him an apologetic look. Though it turned out to be for something else entirely. "Sorry about that, Hiro," she offered. "Your friends really want to come up and see you, but we think that for right now, it's best to wait a little bit." Friends…? He wasn't all that sure what she was talking about, but he certainly wasn't about to try and ask, or object to what she said. He was still trying to get himself under some kind of control. "Actually, we decided that after your first meeting with a Psychologist, we would probably let _her_ decide when you would be okay for visitors outside of your family. We don't want to do something rash without the proper thought and care that's needed."

Hiro nodded once. He wasn't really paying attention, though. He was staring down at his hands, watching dully as they shook and trembled. Cass felt the tremors and tightened her grip just a little bit, trying her best to still him. Her heart tore nearly in two; her nephew was panicked and upset so easily, now. The slightest thing reduced him down to a fit of nerves. Before he had disappeared, her nephew had been confident and boisterous to a fault, almost. Now, he seemed to be the exact opposite. He was small now, and tiny, and quiet, and nervous. He was a shadow of whatever he was before.

Sickness and disgust was like bile in the back of her mouth. Thinking of what that…that _monster_ must have done to her nephew to drive him into such a state, she was worried that she might throw up on the spot. Instead, she choked back a thick swallow, her chest feeling as though it was made of lead. Again, she was forced to reach up and quickly wipe at her eyes. Wearily, she offered him a smile as her arm dropped quickly to her side. She reached out instead to revert back to pushing aside his bangs, hoping that that would be enough to create some sense of solace.

Ami seemed to be aware of this tension as well. Clearing her throat, she looked up and offered the boy a small smile. "I was hoping that you would feel good enough to speak to someone today, actually," she tried. "I can promise you— I'm very good friends with the woman we're planning on assigning to you to. She's _very_ sweet, and I know she's _very_ interested in doing all she can to help you. I think you'll really love her." Her smile wavered just a little bit, and when she spoke next, her voice was a tad bit softer. "Although…ultimately, meeting with her _is_ your decision. You have the final say on what happens."

Hiro was quiet. He just continued to stare numbly down at the blankets, his lips pressed down into a thin line. Cass leaned forward a little bit, her eyebrows knitting together in concern and worry at the look that was on his face. "Hiro?" she prompted gently, not at all sure whether or not prodding was a good idea. "What do you think? Do you want to talk to someone?" When he did not react, she grimaced and added: "I think it might help you a little bit, baby. You might be able to feel much better." Her voice was strained. Some part of her wished that Hiro could find comfort in speaking with her. But the other part of her, the wiser part, knew that she probably would not be able to stomach whatever it was he said.

He paused for another long heartbeat, trying to gather himself. Eventually he nodded ever so slightly, the movement coming across as barely anything of a twitch. "Yeah," he mumbled, trying to decrease his anxiety levels and get his hands to stop shaking. "Yeah, I…I guess so." He started to relapse back into his habit of biting down on his lower lip, when he remembered that his lip was split there. It only brought him unnecessary pain, and he quickly regretted the action. "Okay," he finally said in a small whisper. "Sure."

Ami smiled, looking more than relieved. "Great! That's great! She'll be available really soon; she's actually seeing another patient right now. But I will be sure to let her know that you've decided for it, okay?" Hiro didn't reply, but Ami continued on. "You'll have to— well, you have the choice whether or not you would want, say, your aunt in here while you speak with her. Again, that part is completely up to you." Hiro tensed, his eyes flickering briefly over to Aunt Cass before he shied away. "But you can settle that by the time she arrives, I'm sure?"

Hiro was mute by this point. Aunt Cass offered Ami a weak smile. "We'll decide, yeah," she answered, speaking for her nephew when it was clear he was unable. "Thank you." The way she said these two words made it clear that she was bringing a sense of finality to this conversation. "We really appreciate it."

Ami got the message and smiled again, nodding once and taking a step back from the bed. However, she stopped short and cleared her throat, turning to look back at Hiro. "By the way!" Throughout everything, she did not falter in her bright and bubbly personality. Everyone shared it in these halls; there was a bright consistency in the way that the employees of the children hospital carried themselves. But somehow, the attitude seemed to make everything even worse, looking at it in one way. The happiness…the constant positivity even in situations like this… "You're going to get those stitches out today!" she chirped. Hiro blinked, as if he had forgotten about the gash that had been sealed in his cheek. "It'll probably feel much better, huh?"

"Oh…right," he mumbled, reaching up without thinking to brush his fingers against the injury. He winced a little bit as he felt the touch of harsh sutures underneath his skin. "Yeah. Yeah, it'll…it'll probably be better." There wasn't a lot of optimism in his voice, but he wasn't really all that great at forcing it in the first place. He was mediocre at best, and it was painfully clear that whatever effort he _did_ put into it was pretty pointless in the grand scheme of things.

Ami nodded. "Alright," she chirped. "I'll let them know, then."

Silence met her words, and it was as good a goodbye as any. Leaving one last smile to linger in the air, Ami turned and headed out of the hospital room, closing the sliding door behind her. Aunt Cass and Hiro both watched her leave, and even after she rounded the corner, neither of them moved or spoke.

Eventually, Aunt Cass brought herself to break the silence, and she turned to look over at Hiro, her expression slightly pained. "I don't have to be in here, honey," she said, her voice accidentally coming out as nothing more than a whisper. Hiro didn't move from looking over at the door, so she took in a quick breath and went on regardless. "If you don't want me in here…that's fine. I'm just…I'm just relieved that you can make the decision to talk to _somebody_. And— and I hope that you aren't just saying you'll talk to her because that's what the nurse said she wanted. I hope you…actually do feel comfortable. In doing it, I mean."

"Okay," Hiro rasped, still frowning. He tore his eyes away from the door just to look back down at his bed.

She winced. Looking down, her thumb began to gently brush over Hiro's hand in a relaxing rhythm. "So…do you want me to wait in the waiting room?" she asked. When Hiro still didn't rouse, she cleared her throat with a little grimace. "Because we can. If that's what you want, honey. Tadashi and I can just wait in the waiting room again, and when you're all finished, we can come right back. I promise." Hiro was still unresponsive, and so she leaned a bit forward, bending so she could catch his gaze. He still looked upset and bothered; even when he was forced to look at her, it was clear he did not want to. "Hiro?" she asked. "What do you want to do?"

He swallowed hard again, choking down a lump before it could get too stuck in his throat. His voice was a small mutter when he did reply. "I don't want you to leave…"

She quickly shook her head. "Then I won't!" she rushed. "I'll stay right here! I won't leave if—"

"But I don't want you to listen, either," Hiro finished weakly.

She straightened a little bit. A sense of bemusement splayed over her face, but it quickly evolved instead into concern, and she frowned. Tilting her head to the side, she kept trying to hold his gaze, however difficult it was. "What do you mean?" she asked. At first, Hiro just shut his eyes tightly, clamping his lips together. She wilted and tried again, sounding a little strained. "I don't understand…" He wanted her here, but he didn't want her to?

Hiro's eyes grew glassy and shiny with water. His lower lip trembled a little bit, and Cass immediately felt a spear of pain slice into her heart. He reached up to press the heel of his hand into his forehead, causing an ache to grip around his skull. But he ignored it— he had practice at doing something like that, by now. He sniffed, the noise coming out small and pathetic. But nowhere near as pathetic as what his voice sounded like when it managed to squeeze itself out of his throat.

"Because I still want you to be able to _look_ at me," he whimpered.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Aunt Cass came down to the lobby before Tadashi had the chance to even consider leaving his friends. The group had still been talking together in a tightly-clustered group, when she had suddenly just came down from nowhere, completely out of the blue. At first, Tadashi had jumped to the worst possible outcome— he had immediately wondered if something had happened to Hiro, and she was down here to break the bad news. But, to his relief, she had only offered him a weary smile, and had said that Hiro was talking some kind of therapist.

Tadashi's friends had been planning to loiter around the hospital that day as it was; now that both Aunt Cass and Tadashi were stuck waiting downstairs, their decision to do so became even more rigidly set. Everyone in the entire _city_ knew that the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology was closed off and shut down. Classes were cut off to a standstill, and all of the students were left wondering what to do with themselves in the meantime. These students in particular knew exactly what to do, however. They would rush to the hospital and try to do whatever they could to help the very problem that had inflicted this standstill.

Currently, that help entailed sitting alongside the exhausted pair and trying to provide as much distraction as they could. And for a while, it worked. Honey Lemon was talking about how the weather was getting steadily colder, and she commented that snow wouldn't be too far off. Wasabi was talking about how his family was planning to go away for Christmas to some resort; he never went so far as to say that he was going away with them. Fred took the initiative to coin in and tell another one of his famous stories in which he partook in a trip to the hospital. He certainly seemed to have an archive full of tales that took place in halls like these.

Right now, Gogo was in the middle of telling some story from her childhood. Sitting with her legs draped over one of the arms of the waiting room chair, her arms were crossed over her chest as she talked about how she almost set the house on fire with her sister trying to bake some cookies. The story was more than entertaining for Aunt Cass, who had the faintest hint of a smile on her face as she listened attentively. It was a relief for Tadashi, who was still trying not to wonder about what had happened upstairs too much. Despite her reassurance that nothing was wrong, there still seemed to be something wrong with his aunt's expression and voice. As if the optimism was just some kind of a mask she was trying to wear and pass off as actual skin.

Tadashi wasn't really garnered by the story, though. Distracted, his legs bounced up and down as he looked towards the clock every other second, it seemed. Ten minutes had turned into twenty, and then twenty-five. Half an hour, and they were still waiting to be fetched again. Worry was like a knife that whittled Tadashi down bit by bit. He had felt a certain degree of horror and confusion when Hiro had shown such open fear at the thought of them leaving him, earlier. But now, Tadashi was almost in the same boat. He wanted to go _back_ to him. He needed to make sure that Hiro was _okay_. That he wasn't scared or upset or sad.

What was happening while they were down here?

Honey Lemon turned, her face falling as she read the apparent stress that her friend was going through. Twisting around a bit in her chair so that she could fully face him, she tilted her head to the side as her eyebrows knitted together. "You okay?" she asked, her voice just a soft mumble. She didn't want to talk too loud; they had gone for a while not mentioning anything to Aunt Cass, and the small break seemed to be doing wonders for the woman, who was so clearly exhausted and strung-out. She wouldn't ruin the streak by risking having her hear. "Is something wrong? Do you want to talk about it somewhere?"

Fred had been laying out on the floor, after sitting for too long in the waiting room chairs caused too much stiffness in his back. His arms were crossed back behind his head, and he had been listening to Gogo's story with half an ear. It certainly wasn't as interesting as his story about snapping his arm into a perfect right angle after trying to fly off of his third story balcony. His focus was easily drawn to the side, and he frowned a little bit as he turned to look up at the two. "Tadashi?" he asked. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Tadashi sighed, closing his eyes tightly as he reached up and rubbed at his forehead. "No, I just…" He cleared his throat and shook his head a little bit. "I just think— maybe I'll go out and get some air?" Honey Lemon and Fred eyed him a little warily at the odd statement, and he quickly rose his voice so that he could be heard. Sure enough, everyone else immediately twisted around at the sound of him speaking. "I think I need to get some air. I'm going to walk out for a little bit."

Aunt Cass' smile immediately vanished. "Do you want me to come?" she asked.

But he was already shaking his head. "No. No, I…I just need to go," he said. Abruptly, he pushed himself up to his feet, moving to cross his arms tightly, as if he was suddenly cold. "I'll be right back. I won't be long." He was more than aware of the stares that were burning through him, and he could feel tension crackle like lightning in the air. But, at the moment, there was nothing he could do. Other than just turn around and leave as quickly as he could, that was. And so he did.

Without throwing a glance over his shoulder, Tadashi excused himself from the waiting room and veered down the hall. He wasn't exactly sure where he wanted to go; did he really want to risk going outside? He was scared of what he might find. He hadn't been outside ever since he had entered this hospital. Now that everything had transpired, and now that everyone knew what had happened…would the city feel different? Would it be harder to breathe in that fresh air? Would he feel stares sear him through wherever he went, no matter where it was?

He kept walking. He wasn't really sure where he was heading. His mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, and before too long, he just gave up and let his feet take him wherever. He stared at the ground, numbly trying to figure out what he was supposed to do from this point on. When would school start up again? What was he supposed to do when it _did_? What would happen to…well, _any of them_? It was all so messed up. As soon as he dragged up one concern, there was another to go hand-in-hand with it. Or…maybe it was more like hand-in-hand-in-hand-in-hand-in-hand.

This hospital…the harsh lights, the too-clean hallways…it was starting to get to him. Not only those things, but it was everything else that made up the children's hospital that was digging underneath his skin. Downstairs, by the cafeteria, there was a large, bright yellow submarine playhouse that was completely open to kids. With fake unwater windows that were streamed with bubbles, and brightly-colored fish that were hanging from the towering celling, it was usually packed with at least five kids at all times. It was something that was entirely out of a crystal-clear dream.

But it wasn't something that belonged, either. None of it was. None of the bright smiles, and none of the pictures of hot air balloons or painted murals of cartoon animals. This place was too happy, and it offset what was actually going on inside of it. Hiro seemed smaller in comparison— he seemed smaller and paler, and more lifeless. Seeing his little brother, who he had stuck with through thick and thin since the day that he had been born…reduced to… _this_. And to think…that he could have stopped it all from happening, if Tadashi had just cared just a _little bit more_ …

That's unfair…

 _Is it?_

 _Yeah; it is. It's_ really _unfair._

"Are you alright?"

The voice snapped him into attention at once. He stiffened and went rigid, his eyes widening to be ten times their normal size. Quickly, he turned around, trying to ignore the way his heart was ramming up against his ribcage. He was shocked to see a young woman standing to his right, maybe a little bit older than himself. Her forehead was creased, and there was a small frown on her face as she waited for him to answer. He stiffened, realizing that he had stopped short to stand and linger directly in front of the very same submarine that he had been thinking about.

There were two kids there, now. And he realized with a jolt, and a touch of sharp embarrassment, that he had been just standing there gawking at the pair this entire time. Two adults were standing off to the side, monitoring the play, it looked like. Tadashi went red as he realized that they were looking back at him with concern as well, and he swallowed hard, trying to shrug it all off. The two kids were romping together, making up some game about diving down into the sea. Their lighthearted play caused Tadashi's throat to burn and ache with a sorrowful sense of familiarity. He had to drag his mind back to himself before he was able to properly reply.

"No, I'm…I'm completely fine. No, I'm sorry," he said in a rushed exhale. The woman arched her eyebrows, looking a little skeptical. He offered her a weary smile he hoped looked better than it felt. "I'm sorry. I just…I wasn't paying attention. I just…wandered down here. That's a little weird, I'm really sorry." He looked back at the playhouse, feeling again that rush of sadness. "I didn't mean to…I've just had a long week." He tried to pull off a laugh, but it didn't really come off all that easygoing. If anything, it probably made the entire situation all the more worse.

The person tilted their head to the side; they looked to be studying him rather closely. Their frown remained on their face, and when they spoke next, it was made certain that Tadashi's efforts to clear the air weren't really going rewarded. "You're…" Tadashi grimaced painfully. He knew full well where the sentence was going— he had heard it nearly a million times over by this point. It was nearly a regulated conversation starter now, really. "You're Tadashi Hamada, aren't you?" she asked. His stare turned a little heavier and he stuffed his hands down deep into his pockets. Apparently oblivious to the discomfort, she continued. "I heard that you and your family were in this hospital. I didn't think I would get to see you, though."

"Well…yeah." The reply wasn't all that great. It wasn't anywhere close to it, actually. He reached up with one hand to rub the back of his neck. "I was just getting some air. Trying to clear my head and…forget a bunch of what was going on. If I could." He put slight emphasis on this, hoping that she might catch the drift and take her leave. Looking at her now, he wasn't even sure what she was doing all the way down here. There were other adults that were looking after the two kids that were playing. Unless she was some really old sister, or she was trusting the others to look after her kid, she didn't seem to be playing the proper kind of role when it came to responsibility. Her eyes were trained solely on Tadashi— not on either of the little ones that were bouncing around the submarine.

"I can see that," she replied, offering him a smile now. "And that's completely understandable. I can't imagine being in your shoes at a time like this." He looked off to the side, clearly uncomfortable and wanting nothing more than to slink away. Was there a way he could excuse himself without making a big scene out of everything? Or was he supposed to just resign himself to it all? Suddenly, trying to find some breathing space for himself was backfiring on him. Whoever this was seemed to be taking up all the room. "How is your family doing, though? Are they alright? Is Hiro coming along?"

"Yeah, he's really coming along," Tadashi mumbled, fighting a wince. "He's…uh— he's been here for a few days now. He's working on it all." Politeness was second nature to Tadashi, but even he was starting to come undone. Usually he didn't have a breaking point, but now, all of a sudden, he was finding himself already hitting the wall. But could he be blamed for it, though? He started to turn away, his shoulders tensing. "If you don't mind, I should probably get back to my family now. I said I would be back soon, and I don't intend to disappoint—"

"He's made his first appearance at court." The words were flat and rushed— spat out before Tadashi could get too far away or disregard them. And they did their job, too. At once, Tadashi jerked, his eyes widening just slightly with a mix of confusion and suspicion. He blinked rapidly and stopped dead in his tracks, though he did not turn around immediately. For a heartbeat or more, he just stopped there and stared, too caught off-guard to do anything else. The woman took a small step closer, her gaze crowded now in thought. She cleared her throat and took it upon herself to continue when she garnered no reaction. "Professor Callaghan now has bail set against him." Still, nothing. Tadashi wasn't all that sure what to think. There were a number of things that were possible. However, the number was whittled down when she spoke next. "What are your thoughts on that?"

There was a long stretch of silence, in which Tadashi was trying to collect himself enough to get something out. It was all he could do really to just turn and look back at her, at first. His lips were pressed down together in a thin line, and he clenched his fists tightly at his sides, in the attempt to keep them from shaking. "I…" He paused before he took in a quick breath. His voice was thin and curt. He could tell by now that the other two adults off to the side had turned to look over in their direction, seeming puzzled. "I really don't want to talk about…about any of this," he finally got out after a tense pause. "I really need to be getting back to my family."

She took another small step closer. She didn't appear to be letting up in terms of proximity, or whittling for answers. And Tadashi had a sinking feeling and a choking one all at the same time as he slowly started to realize what this was. "What do you think about your brother suffering by the hands of your own teacher?" she demanded. Tadashi opened his mouth, trying to get something out that was halfway decent. He knew that he should just turn around and leave, but his legs were rooted to the ground, as if sewn there. "Did you realize what was happening _at all_? And does your brother know about your relationship with his _kidnapper_?"

Tadashi was shocked and floored. He blinked rapidly, as if doing so would help jar his mind into motion. But it probably just made him look even stupider than he already felt. "I— I didn't ever— nobody—" He swallowed hard and took a small step backwards. He realized that the woman across from him was holding on to a phone that was hanging at her side. It was tracking the conversation— recording each and every word that was said. The tightness was increasing on Tadashi's throat with the repeated questions, and it was only getting worse.

She seemed to be growing concerned at the lack of interaction on Tadashi's part. Her voice was a little bit more strained as she tried again. "Is there anything you want to say?" she asked. He just stared at her, gaping like a fish out of water. His heartbeat was loud in his ears, and he could feel his heart ramming hard against his chest. His head felt like it was detached from his shoulders, and he felt like the room was getting smaller and smaller.

The questions burned like fire underneath his skin. Did he realize what was happening…how on earth had he _not_ realized what was happening? Hiro…Hiro didn't _know_ about him and Professor Callaghan, and how close they had been, did he?! What would Tadashi do when Hiro found out? But more importantly: what would Hiro do? He didn't want to see him any more upset than he already was, but there would come a time when Hiro _did_ realize everything, and when he _did_ connect the dots. What would happen then? He could hardly breathe through the panic of it all, and so he just stood there like an idiot, staring dumbly ahead and keeping mute.

The inquirer raised her eyebrows. "Do you think that Hiro will ever _fully_ recover from what has happened to him?" she pressed.

He might as well have been slapped right across the face with that one. His eyes went nearly ten times bigger, and his throat felt completely closed off. He could feel his hands shaking at his sides, and once again, he pictured himself turning and simply walking away from this person. But the prospect of doing so was impossible. He couldn't walk away from this— he couldn't walk away from any of this. That was what was making this all so horrible.

It was that no matter what he did, or what happened, he never seemed to be able to get _away_ from it.

He was still groping at his mind, trying to muster up something to say— anything to say. But he couldn't. He could just stare blankly, his expression numb as he just gawked. The woman across from him was studying him closely, as if even the smallest of twitches from him would be enough to answer one of her hailing questions. For a heartbeat or more, Tadashi was worried that this interrogation would never end; he would be stuck here forever, frozen still and being studied like he was some specimen underneath a microscope.

But then.

" _Hey_!" The shout was angry and sharp, and so uncharacteristically enraged. It sliced through the air and completely roused the two children that were playing on the submarine. The two blinked rapidly, turning to watch with owlish stares as Fred and Honey Lemon rushed forward. Fred's stare was clouded over with fury, and each step was stiff and heavy, while Honey Lemon skittered close after him, looking anxious. Though despite the nervous forefront of her expression, there was a sense of anger underlying there as well.

Fred, who had been the one to shout in the first place, rushed forward, nearly shoving past Tadashi in his haste to reach the other that was across from him. Honey Lemon hung back for a moment, her face falling with sorrow as she reached out to put her hands comfortingly on his arm. He looked wildly between his two friends, his eyes wide and stricken as his mind struggled to keep up with what was going on. "Get away from him!" Fred snapped, wasting no time before getting up in the woman's face. Immediately, she jerked backwards, stumbling a little bit over herself. "What's your problem, huh!? Find someone else to annoy the crap out of!"

The woman drew herself up just slightly. Her expression clouded over, but she remained resolute as she turned to look back over at Tadashi, who was still staring with a slightly open mouth. "It all has to be put out to light at some point," she tried her best to persuade. "If we can get it out now, it will all go much smoother, don't you think? Later on?" Nobody replied to her. Fred just kept his glare shooting her down, and Honey Lemon and Tadashi stayed stock-still, only managing to look torn. "We could help each other…right?" When silence met her words a second time, she tried to continue. "I was being truthful. When I said that I couldn't imagine what you were going through right now. It must be awful." She tilted her head to the side. "Don't you want justice? We can make sure that there will be nothing _but_. Why, with a testimony from—"

"Leave him alone!" Fred snapped, clearly not in the mood to stop and listen to anything more she had to say. "Leave their entire family alone! Can't you tell that they don't want any part in this, yet?" The woman closed her mouth tightly, pressing her lips together in a look of resigned obedience. Tadashi was slowly coming back to himself, and getting over the shock of what had happened. Now, all he was left to feel slightly hollow. In silence, he just stared back at her, his expression tinged over with bemusement and a hint of sorrow. His back to his friend, Fred just kept yelling. "They've only been here for five days, and for five days, all they've been waiting for is for Hiro to get better! Not for you to come waltzing in here offering them some sort of crap deal!"

Honey Lemon frowned, her shoulders hunching forward a little bit. "Fred, calm down…" She had never seen her friend this angry before, she didn't think. Reluctantly, she took a step back from Tadashi and stepped forward instead to try and offer some sort of comfort to her other friend. She reached out to hold onto his wrist, but he didn't even look back at her. Weakly, she turned to address the woman, her words weak, however forceful she first intended them to be. "You need to leave. Okay? Right now." The words were final and blunt. Behind her glasses, her eyes narrowed a little bit, and she added: "The only thing anybody is interested in now, is Hiro getting better. That's it. We don't need anything else."

The woman surveyed each young individual in front of her. Her gaze seemed thoughtful and reluctant for a moment, and each one was worried that she would actually go so far as to try and object all over again. So there was a collective sense of relief when she abruptly turned her back on the trio and started away down the hall. She tucked her phone back into her pocket, and the others could see the stiffness that was in her stride as she left. Tension was thick in the air, as it was still clear that the others in the play area were still looking curiously over in their direction.

It was nearly a full minute before any of the three spoke. Honey Lemon turned over to Tadashi, her expression creased over with a worried frown. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

Tadashi cleared his throat, wincing as he looked down at the ground. Nervously, he reached back to rub his neck. "Yeah," he mumbled, trying his best to keep his throat from clogging back any of his words too badly. "Yeah, I just…" His eyebrows knitted together, and it all died on him regardless. His mind went blank instead, and he resorted to just coughing into his elbow.

Fred still looked furious. He stared down the hall, after the woman, his hands still clenched. "What a jerk," he growled under his breath. "You'd think it would take longer than a few stupid days for something like that to happen." He twisted around to look back at Tadashi. "Next time that happens, I won't be as easy. I'll flip out— they're going to wish they were never born, after coming into contact with the likes of _me_." It was clear by the tone of his voice that he was trying to make a joke now. Or at least he was trying to be a little bit more teasing, to try and lighten the mood.

But at the promise, Tadashi just felt a strong sense of fear and dread. He felt his stomach fall, and there was a tight lump in his throat. "Next time…" he repeated, his voice empty and blank. Next time. There wasn't an 'if' in that statement; had that been on purpose, or was it simply accidental? Tadashi reached up to run his hands through his hair, trying not to notice how hard they were shaking in the process. Fred's expression started to thaw from its irritation, and it fell instead to match Honey Lemon's more solemn stare. They both looked over at their friend, seeming lost on what to do.

Tadashi looked from one person to the other, searching them for answers. "What do we do next time?" he asked, looking as if the question alone caused him pain. He thought of the deeply-rooted fear and vulnerability he had felt in the face of just those few questions. He tried to imagine what it would be like if he was Hiro. If he was smaller and weaker; if he was injured and scared like he was, and if he was center of attention. Hiro already jumped if you even looked at him wrong. Trying to imagine him in a state like that was enough to make Tadashi want to throw up.

"Hiro," he rasped softly, the name barely scraping out of his throat. He blinked, already feeling his frayed nerves begin to unravel all over again. "This will…this is what's going to happen to Hiro."

"No." Fred all but spat the word out in his rush to object. "No, we'll make sure it won't."

Honey Lemon shook her head furiously, not wasting a second before joining in. "It doesn't have to. I'm sure it doesn't."

Tadashi just looked back down at the floor, his stare weighing a million tons. Weakly, he just shook his head, and repeated himself, reaching up to press the heels of his hands down hard into his eyes. He thought of what the woman had said before, the words ringing in his ears and making the room start to tilt and spin. 'Professor Callaghan now has bail set against him. What are your thoughts on that?' No. It couldn't be helped; not at all. It would only be even worse. "No," he mumbled weakly, still barely able to be heard. He struggled to put his thoughts into words. But it was as impossible to say as it was hard to face. "No…I just…I just don't know what we're supposed to do…"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro wasn't listening when she had introduced herself using her last name. He had been too preoccupied with her sudden entrance to his room to hear what she had first said. And the mere thought of asking her to say it again was enough to make him stiffen and grimace in fear and discomfort. Thankfully enough, as soon as Hiro had realized his mistake, the woman had kindly swept on to add: "But you can just call me Mai if you would like. That's what all my friends call me."

She seemed…well, she seemed nice. She sat up straight in her chair, but she leaned forward a little bit, as if she was too excited not to. There was a broad smile on her face, and her voice was gentle and soft. She had a notebook on her lap, and a pen clasped in her hand, poised over the page presently. She had brown hair— brown hair that was pulled back into a bun. Hiro was only able to gather these little details, in bits and pieces at a time. Mostly, he kept his eyes down on the blankets, studying them silently. Every so often, his eyes would flicker up towards her. To see her little smile, and her eager expression.

But they could not remain there for long before they quickly went back down again.

Mai had been speaking softly for a while— going over the standards of what it all meant in talking with her, and what that entailed. She had been talking about how she would not be permitted to share any of their conversation to people like Aunt Cass unless he wanted her to, and she had been going over what she could and could not speak of. What everyone had to cover before actually beginning a session. But pretty soon, even she could not avoid the blatant fact that Hiro was just staring down. He did not react to anything at all she said about security, or her reassurances that she would try and help him as much as she possibly could. His withdrawn and frightened stare was completely unchanging, as if it was written in stone.

She cleared her throat as she came to these conclusions, and brightly tried to change to a different tactic. "So! Enough of the boring things, hmm?" She kept up her smile, the inward tugging in her heart she felt at the sight of the boy expertly handled so that it did not show whatsoever. Hiro didn't reply or even look up. His thumb was dragging limply over the sheets of the hospital bed, just for the sake of having something to do. She shifted a little bit in her chair and pressed on. "Well, you've been here at the hospital for about five days, now, haven't you, Hiro?" When he kept quiet, she just kept on grinning. "How is it so far, do you think? Anything…you would like to talk about?"

Hiro swallowed hard. He felt his chest tighten and constrict on itself, like he was suddenly way too high in the air, and it was thinning around him. At the mention of his family, the tightness only seemed to grow tenfold. Where were they now? Were they down in the lobby somewhere, together? When would they be back? He had made his decision to have them stay away just for the attempt to retain at least something of himself, at least in their eyes. But now, he was starting to wonder how he could have been so stupid as to tell them to leave.

When would they be back? How long would they be gone? How long until he could feel Aunt Cass' hand on top of his own, or see Tadashi smile at him in that way that he always did? How long had it _been_? It felt like ages, but surely it could only have been just a few minutes at the most? In having the thoughts run through his mind, Hiro realized far too late that he had fallen completely silent. He stiffened, his muscles growing tense with the thought that he was keeping her waiting for a reply.

Quickly, his eyes flickered up to meet hers briefly before he was left to look away again. He forced himself to speak up, at the same time being plainly aware of the fact that his voice scraped harshly against his throat. "I missed them," he managed, part of him knowing that the lame statement probably would not be enough, or anywhere near where she wanted. He winced, beginning to feel hot. "I…missed them a lot. It's…weird to have them back. To…wake up and…just have them…here…" He felt like every word he tried to use came out wrong and useless.

But Mai just smiled brightly, as if she was encouraged by the response. "That's only natural, isn't it, Hiro? I'm sure your family feels the exact same way about you. Don't you think?" At first, Hiro was still. But then he twitched his head up and down in a singular nod. She mimicked the movement, though much stronger. "You got used to not having them around, right?" This time, Hiro did not move. He just stared. She continued. "Now this will be a new transition— to get used to having them around you again. But it will be one that will be much easier for you than your first, won't it? It will be much easier to embrace them back again. Especially given the support and love that they bring. Eventually it will stop feeling weird or unnatural— it'll feel the exact opposite."

Hiro offered yet another small nod. It was barely a movement in itself, and anyone would have to do a double-take in order to try and decide whether or not it even happened. Mai shifted a little bit in her chair, tilting her head a little bit to the side. "You seem very tense, Hiro," she murmured, keeping her voice gentle. She noticed the fact that Hiro's fingers tightened just a little bit in the blankets, and so she lowered her voice even more before continuing. "You seem frightened still. Would you like to talk about that?"

His eyes again went fleetingly over to her. But his stomach twisted and cramped in on itself as he saw that she was still looking at him with that same soft expression. It made his throat begin to burn, and he could feel his eyes follow suit in the same way. She looked like she was worried about him— but she had no idea who he was. She looked like she wanted to help him— but she didn't know him. There was affection in her eyes; they were soft and they were gentle, and they were…they were _too_ intrusive. _She didn't know him_. But she was _looking_ at him like that!

The mere look was burning. It was stabbing right through Hiro. He couldn't breathe.

It was too much like _his_.

Hiro swallowed hard and reached up to press his hand against his forehead, the simple action causing pain to wrap tightly around his temples. Despite that, he kept the pressure applied, wishing for the first time that he could turn and curl up into a tight ball, away from all of this. Moving his back even the tiniest bit was bringing agony to slice down his spine, after whatever operation he had gone through. He couldn't do what he really wanted, which was to take up his usual position to hide away from everything. He _always_ did that. It was how he coped. What on earth was he supposed to do now?

"Hiro?" Mai asked, her voice still crowded with that sense of concern.

"Please don't look at me like that." It was barely a whimper in itself. But it sliced through the silence of the room, completely shattering it. Mai, to all of her credit, did not even bat an eyelid at the pathetic plea. She only sat up a little straighter, a frown playing on the edges of her lips as she looked down to make a small note on her pad. Hiro was breathing a little irregular by this point. His expression was getting weaker and weaker with every passing second; whatever footing he had managed to get by accepting the idea of this therapist in the first place, he was slowly beginning to lose it.

Mai studied him carefully. "Don't look at you like what, Hiro?" she asked.

Hiro shut his eyes tightly and grimaced away. He did not utter a single word to her question.

She went on, however calmly. "How am I looking at you?"

He shook his head. He struggled to choke back another hardness in his windpipe. "It's…I can't—" He kept his hand pressing down into his bruised skin. His heart was far too fast; it was thudding against his chest in a painful way, and it was making the blood roar in his ears. "He—" Mai watched in silence, though her eyebrows were slowly pulling together as he continued to struggle. There was no recovery or any kind of resurfacing. He was falling into a panic, and he could not seem to pull himself out of it. It was clear that he did not have any proper coping skills, or anything else that would allow him to yank himself out of this stupor.

Hiro sucked in a harsh breath, tears now blinking down the sides of his face. He knew that he was being ridiculous, and he could feel shame burn underneath his skin. But at the same time, that sense of embarrassment could not be as felt just as sharply as his panic was. He remembered, as warped as it was, first waking up in Callaghan's house, tied back and restrained in every sense of the word. He remembered seeing Callaghan's face— seeing his _eyes_. _They_ were soft, too. _They_ were just like that— concerned, and worried. _He_ hadn't known him, either. Not then. Just like her.

"I can't— I'm sorry, I just—" Hiro couldn't even connect a thought anymore. All he could do was stammer and fumble over himself. He could feel himself slipping, and he could recognize the fact that he was getting worked up, and would not be able to fix himself. But even as the thoughts registered, they were useless. He couldn't do a single thing about them.

"Shhh— Hiro, you've got to calm down," Mai murmured, looking down and grabbing the bottom of her chair. She scooted a little bit closer to the hospital bed. It was more than apparent at the moment that perhaps she had moved too quickly in terms of conversation. "How about we practice some calming exercises instead?" Hiro was still breathing in a haywire fashion, gulping in breath after quick breath. But he winced and managed a nod all the same. Seeing this and feeling a small touch of relief, she offered him a smile. "Alright, then. I need you to slow down your breathing. I need you to breathe in for eight seconds, hold it in for three, and then let it out for another eight. Okay?"

Hiro tensed, but he gave another hasty nod all the same. She repeated the motion in a much more collected fashion, and began to count. Slowly, and in a regularized rhythm, as to not rush him or cause him any additional stress. "In…two…three four…five…" She went on like this, the sound of each number soft and light— in a way that was meant to be soothing and reassuring. Hiro followed her instructions blindly, not knowing anything else to do. Though his lungs began to sear and scream from the lack of oxygen once he stopped hyperventilating, he managed to ignore the pain.

Gradually, after what seemed like forever, Hiro managed to get himself back under control. He shut his eyes tightly and held just as fast to the covers that were over him. He tried to calm himself down, and bring his mind back to where it was supposed to be. Where it had to _stay_. Where he _needed_ it to stay. But it was like trying to tug a five million pound weight back to himself. Shakily, his voice thin and raspy thanks to the anxiety that was coursing through his veins, he wheezed out something quick. "I want them back."

Mai looked over him, her expression carefully guarded. "Who?"

He kept his eyes closed, refusing to let them open again, for fear of what he would see. But he spoke nevertheless, his voice reduced all the way back to that pitiful squealing whimper. "My family. Aunt Cass— Tadashi— I need them back— bring them back!" At first, Mai wasn't sure what to do. Her job was to fully evaluate him. But at the same time, she could not just sit by and watch him struggle just because she had been given a specific task.

"Please bring them back! Please, I can't— I need them! I can't—"

She could not ignore the pleas which spelled out just how fractured and injured he really was.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It was peaceful again. If you ignored the beeping of the machines, and if you ignored the lights out in the hallway, or the occasional nurse that poked their head inside, it was almost like they were back at home, and everything was perfect. Almost. Tadashi was currently laying on the couch, trying to find a comfortable enough position to fall asleep. Though it wasn't too hard to achieve, considering how exhausted he was. He could probably sleep on a cactus and be perfectly content.

Hiro and Aunt Cass were both over on the hospital bed. After seeing how distraught her youngest nephew was when they had first come back up, Cass had flown to his side and had refused to leave it for the duration of the evening. Now, they were both asleep. Hiro had managed to shift over to the side to make room for Cass, who had laid down and draped her arm protectively over his small frame. The only sound were the small snores that came from that direction every once and a while.

Just when Tadashi was beginning to drift off to sleep, however, he heard it. "Tadashi?" It was barely a mumble. Probably just because Hiro didn't want to wake up Aunt Cass. But it roused the older brother all the same. He turned and pushed himself up immediately, his exhaustion briefly going out the window. He turned to look over at the bed, realizing that Hiro was looking over at him already. Tadashi could see the dull glow of his eyes, and he could see the now-scarred part of his cheek that had housed stitches only a few hours before.

He pushed off of the couch, frowning as he wasted no time in going over to his little brother's bedside. "What is it?" he whispered, looking over fleetingly to Aunt Cass. She was still fast asleep; she was still letting out huffing snores that caused Hiro's hair to ruffle and shift. Her arm was still curled around her nephew as well— even when she was asleep, she was still trying to offer him a presence. Hiro was snuggled down into her embrace, however, for the moment, he was more focused on Tadashi. There was a look of slight worry on his face; it wasn't surprising, though. Nowadays, that seemed to be all that was there in his expression.

"What's going to happen?" Hiro whimpered softly. When Tadashi just stared at him in silence, unsure as to what he was implying, the younger moved on. "Now that…we're here…" He blinked slowly, his eyes moving over to look back at Aunt Cass. "I can't believe that it's real. It…almost can't be." His forehead creased over slowly, his eyes clouding over with confusion and sorrow. Tadashi just stared, too caught off-guard to craft a reply. "And it's…been…just…like _this_. But…it can't… _stay_ like this, right?" It was clear by the look on his face that he wasn't sure whether or not he was making any sense. "It's…it's got to change…doesn't it?"

Tadashi was mute for a long moment. Then, he managed a soft: "I guess. Maybe."

Hiro did not seem reassured. And Tadashi couldn't really blame him for that. He continued to look at Aunt Cass before he tore his gaze away to face Tadashi instead. His eyes were wide and stricken, and he had to make a noticeable effort to hold the stare head-on. "What's going to happen?" he repeated hollowly. "What's going to happen to me? To…to _him_?" The question was hardly anything at all. A mere exhale of anxiety. It tore at Tadashi's heart, and for a heartbeat or more, the question only caused anger to stir in the pit of his stomach. At the thought of Callaghan and all that he had done.

However, when he spoke next, it was a quick and rushed reassurance. He fought the urge to rush down and maybe grab his little brother's hand— he knew that Aunt Cass was already there. "Hiro, you will be just fine," he said, his voice backed with force now. "I promise. I meant what I said before— nothing at all will happen to you. Besides you recovering and getting better, absolutely nothing else is going to happen to you. You know? Nothing. I swear."

Hiro didn't react. He just stared hollowly at Tadashi and waited.

Tadashi grimaced. "As for him…" He couldn't even bring himself to say his name out loud. Not to Hiro. "I'm not sure. I haven't really…kept up with any of it. I just care about what happens to you." Suddenly, he was left to question himself with such a line of thought. Was it right, to think that? He recalled what the woman had said to him earlier today. "I think…he showed up in court already. But…I don't really know…" He trailed off, feeling like complete crap as he looked mournfully at his brother. Shouldn't he have more _answers_ than he did? Shouldn't he be there to comfort Hiro by knowing everything he didn't? Being able to clear it all up? "I'm sorry," he finished lamely. "I wish I could tell you more."

Hiro glanced down at the bed again, darkening significantly. "You haven't kept up with it?" he asked.

Tadashi winced. "No," he admitted, regret tinging his voice. "Not really."

He couldn't stomach it.

Was that a good excuse? Or was it a selfish one?

He could see that Hiro was holding something back. He was working his jaw in that awkward way that he had before, when he was trying to bottle himself up. Concerned, Tadashi took a small step closer. "What is it, Hiro?" he tried to prompt. "You can say it. It's fine." He glanced over at Aunt Cass, seeing with a sense of relief that she was still fast asleep. She was dead on her feet earlier. He wouldn't be surprised if she slept for next ten hours.

He spoke, but he did not look up from his blankets. He kept ducked away, like an ostrich who was too frightened to look at what was in front of it. "Did they find a dog?" he whispered in a small rasp. Tadashi tilted his head to the side, looking puzzled at the question that, to him, seemed completely out of the blue. Hiro blinked slowly, again resorting to running his thumb over the covers. "In the house," he mumbled. If Tadashi didn't know any better, he would have thought that Hiro was trying to sink back further in Aunt Cass' grip. "Did anyone find a dog yet?"

"A dog?" There was disbelief already in his voice, and Tadashi could tell that once Hiro picked this up, his mood already began to deflate. He resembled a balloon that was losing all of its air. "N-No…no, there hasn't been a dog, I don't think. I feel like I would know if there was." Would he, even? He couldn't really be sure, probably. "Why?" Hiro didn't reply, and Tadashi felt a stirring sense of anxiety. What was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to pry? Was he just supposed to take whatever Hiro was willing to give him? It was all so messed up. Before he could stop himself, he found his lips moving on their own. "Did you…was there a dog?"

Hiro was silent for a long moment. At first, Tadashi was beginning to think that he was just going to ignore the question as if it hadn't happened in the first place. Then he turned, his eyes darting away. But not quick enough that Tadashi could mistake the fact that they were glassy and watery. "Yeah." He was surprised with the actual answer. Despite how clogged and thick Hiro's voice sounded with the single syllable, at first, Tadashi could only focus on the fact that Hiro was actually answering a question. Tadashi hadn't even asked yet— he hadn't wanted to even _risk_ upsetting his baby brother.

With the answer, and everything that answer brought with it, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel. Should he be relieved? Or should he be mortified?

Hiro reached up, wiping at his face. There was a small sniff before: "She was a present."

Silence followed the words. It was all Tadashi could do to try and keep himself from getting sick at the word. 'Present.' It made you think of birthdays, or holidays. Not a kidnapping situation that had spanned for more than twelve months. He tried to picture something like that— Hiro being handed a brightly-colored gift in the middle of some dark basement or concealed room. It made him want to vomit. But all he did manage to get out was a simple: "Oh."

Hiro didn't say anything more. He just stared off to the side with that same expression that, before, Tadashi had been unable to decipher. That line in between something like sadness or puzzlement. And it was in that moment that he finally _did_ make the connection as to what that was. It wasn't either of those things. He almost wished it was, though. Because standing there, in the dark hospital room, he realized that the look that was so often on his little brother's face now was one he had never worn before any of this.

It was resignation. Defeat.

At the realization, Tadashi couldn't keep it inside any longer. It was tearing him apart, and the longer he kept the confession locked behind his teeth, the worse it was making him feel. Like a mantra, it was repeating over and over again, and it was getting to the point where he could not keep it in anymore. "He was my professor," he said in a rush. Hiro tensed and looked up, his teary eyes flashing as he spoke. He swept on, shaking his head as he continued to ramble. "I told him about you to begin with. I didn't think anything would happen because of it— he just made it seem like he was helping me. He told me that I should do what I did about your Bot Fighting— he told me I should just let you go. And if I had just known what that meant…"

Hiro just looked at him. He didn't even blink.

Tadashi ducked away and forced himself on. "Throughout the entire time, I was with him— every day. He helped me; he reassured me when I was upset, and he…he just did so much! And we— we had no idea!" His voice was raising. He knew in the back of his mind that he might wake Aunt Cass. But he didn't care at the moment. Because right now it was all rushing out of his mouth, and the only thing he could focus on was the fact that Hiro was staring at him in complete silence, listening.

Which was good, because Tadashi couldn't bring himself to stop. Not now. "I was with him all the time, and I— he was my professor." He repeated that last part hollowly, his shoulders slumping. Guilt was rising up to clench at his throat, and he shook his head uselessly. "Every day I saw him, and every day he asked me how it was with you gone. I never thought that he could possibly be responsible for what happened to you. I had just known…"

Hiro didn't say anything. Tadashi could see him swallow hard, and he could see the water begin to overflow over his eyelids. He tried to search for something else he could say. But he was coming up blank and completely empty. All he could do was repeat himself again, like he was some kind of a broken record. He could feel his own eyes begin to prick and sting. "He was my professor. I saw him every day…"

Nothing prepared him for Hiro's reply.

It was small and it was quiet, but it smacked straight into him all the same. "I know."

Tadashi jerked, surprise flaring over his face. "You…you know?" he asked dumbly.

Hiro gave a singular nod. "Yeah," he mumbled. Again, he could not hold his stare. He turned away, his voice retaining its deadened sort of ring. "He told me that. He liked to remind me." Tadashi couldn't breathe anymore; it was completely out the window. He just stared at his brother, with a mix of horrible pity, and harrowing fear. Again, he could feel that same disgust begin to burn through him entirely. Hiro sniffed again. "He told me whenever he talked to you. He told me whenever you were with your friends. Or doing something." His voice crumbled in on itself a little bit at this. His lips quivered and trembled, though he tried his best to keep the fact to himself. As best he could.

Tadashi fought the urge to flinch away. Something in him recognized the fact that Hiro was becoming upset, and he knew that he should probably back away and let the topic drop altogether. He never even entertained the idea of being able to have a conversation like this, let alone one this early. He knew he shouldn't pry. But he wasn't thinking straight. Rashly, he just went on. "I was there," he all but spat out. Hiro glanced at him again, his stare weighing about a million pounds. Tadashi had to choke back a swallow before he could say anything more. "Halloween. I was there. At his house. I was right there— probably less than fifty feet away from you. And I just…I could have done something, but I just didn't want to think…"

Tadashi frowned, ducking his head a little bit. "I was right there…" he rasped.

He didn't know what he was expecting when he admitted what had been eating away at him. Anger would be more than warranted from Hiro's side. Disappointment was just as legitimate. Betrayal would even be a suitable reaction. But surprisingly, the longer Tadashi waited for these emotions to spurt their way forward, the more he was beginning to understand that none of them were coming. Instead, Hiro stayed exactly the same. He turned and looked at Tadashi with those tear-filled eyes, and had that same heartbreaking expression of resignation plastered on his features.

He offered a small shrug of the shoulders. His eyes were dull behind their tears, and when he replied, his voice was still that same small croak that barely inched its way out of his throat. And again, came those two little words, which barely conveyed whatever emotions must have been stewing inside of him. "I know."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: Yes, for those of you who were very concerned, I _do_ still have obligations to consider even during summer. I work every day from seven to five, so I've got a lot on my plate still. And also, from July 30th to August 3rd, I will be gone in Disneyworld again; I know it's a ways away, and I'll hopefully have a few more updates in between now and then. But still, I've got some things going on. Just graduated, so at least I don't have to do anything with school anymore.

Thank you for patience, and I apologize for the break in updates. Even though this _is_ my most updated story, you aren't all used to the little pauses in between chapters, so my apology still stands. I'm really excited for the chapters that are going to stem off of this one, though! It'll be a turning point from here on out, and things will start rolling together. Hopefully you're just as excited for it as I am.

As always, if there are any typos or issues, I would love to fix them! Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Please go look at my poll and vote! It'll help me out a bunch.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

 _Thunk._

"It's alright. You're doing very well; don't get discouraged."

 _Thud._

"Everyone has trouble at first. It can be very confusing. Don't give up!"

 _…Bam._

Mai smiled kindly, unrelenting in her support. It didn't matter how many times Hiro ran into the wall or bumped into something— she was always armed with a small laugh and a supporting comment. It just made the entire situation even worse. Feeling completely stupid, Hiro reached up to correct his glasses, which had gone askew after the left wheel of his wheelchair had gotten way too close to the wall. He felt embarrassment sting like fire underneath his skin, and he was acutely aware of the fact that his hands were shaking as he attempted to reach down and correct himself.

But it was so _hard_. And no matter what he did, he couldn't _help_ himself.

Mai was standing down at the other end of the hall. Her smile was not going anywhere, it seemed. She grinned toothily, and her hands were clasped behind her back. Hiro glanced up at her, enough misery written across his face to fill up a novel. But she was not deterred by the sorrowful stare. "Don't worry, Hiro, you're doing fantastic!" she cheered gently. As if sensing his hesitation, she just continued. "Everyone is confused when they first try out pushing themselves in a wheelchair. You're doing just fine for your first time."

"Thank you," he mumbled, though the words felt blocky and weighted coming out of his mouth. His arms— his arms were too heavy to push the wheels right. His shoulders burning with the effort of shoving himself forward, and his throat was getting more and more swollen the more frustration he was forced to choke down. His back was sore and aching. Despite the fact that he had been moved down from the ICU finally, and despite the fact that he felt much better physically than he had in an entire year, he was still exhausted. Just getting out here into the hall to try and push himself around for the first time was enough to make him winded. By this point, there was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"You'll be rocketing home in no time," Mai commented.

Hiro didn't reply, or even hint that he had heard her speak in the first place. He looked down, biting on his lower lip as he tried to maneuver himself closer to her. That was what she said— she said that if he reached her from the other side of the hall, then she would let him go back to his room. Back to where Aunt Cass was. But he had been out here for fifteen minutes, and he had probably gotten about three feet from his starting point. He had been pushed around in his wheelchair for the past two days. He had never pushed himself. And the longer the torture was dragged out, the worse Hiro felt and struggled.

Mai watched him carefully, taking stock of his every movement. There was no telling what she was thinking— on the outside, she was nothing but supportive and peppy. "You've come very far, Hiro," she praised, her voice oozing with approval and affection. Hiro continued to stare down at the ground, trying to get himself to move properly while also trying to maintain a cool front. Though his hands were only getting shakier as the time dragged itself by. "Aren't you proud of yourself?"

He didn't say anything at first; he kept his attention on the wheels at his sides, and pushing them in a way that would allow an easy, straightforward motion. It was much harder than it looked. And the longer he tried, the more his body seemed to weigh. Trying to ignore the tiredness that was holding him down, Hiro kept wriggling the wheels, inching along with shaky breaths in and out. He grimaced, finding that the subtle encouragement in her soft voice was enough to make his skin crawl and sting.

He bit down against the discomfort and sucked in a sharp gasp before he hummed a soft: "Mhm."

It had been forever, it felt like. Hiro wasn't exactly sure how long it had been. He knew for a fact that Thanksgiving had come and gone. The night of Thanksgiving, they had all been given a makeshift hospital meal to celebrate. It hadn't been much. Just a few slices of turkey with some mashed potatoes and gravy. Hiro hadn't eaten too much of it, but he had been beside himself with happiness regardless. Having been able to be with Aunt Cass and Tadashi for it was more than he had ever hoped to get again.

But to be honest, he experienced that happiness every single day that passed here.

"It's been a long road so far." Mai interrupted his line of thought, Hiro stiffening a little bit as he was yanked back into reality. He blinked, his eyes flickering briefly over to her as he faltered in his trembling motions. "Don't you think?" He paused for a second, trying to figure out whether or not there was an actual _correct_ answer that she could be looking for. His heart picked up a little bit at the confusion, and he opened his mouth just a little bit, as if he was planning on replying. He couldn't get anything out, though. Thankfully enough, Mai went on. "Do you know how long you've been here?"

He blanched. Felt a wave of puzzlement and anxiety with the realization that he wasn't at all sure. Hiro edged forward a little bit more in his wheelchair, but he wasn't able to stop and feel relieved with the small progress. He felt tongue-tied and trapped with the question he did not know the answer to. He glanced down the hall, towards where his room was situated. His chest felt tight, and he was starting to feel that same pulling desire to get back to his family. Mai picked up on this immediately, her eyes flashing a little bit at the emotion that was in the young child's. Eventually, he did bring himself to reply in a soft murmur. "Not really, no." The confession came out barely audible.

"Well, do you know what day it is today?" she prompted gently.

Hiro stared back down at the tiled floor. There was a sullen frown on his face. Mai had encouraged him over and over again to get himself back into the swing of knowledge. Being in Callaghan's basement, crowded in the dark like he had been, Hiro hadn't known night from day, much less one day from another. Therefore, Mai fell into the routine of asking him every time they got together what day it was, or how long it had been since their last talk. "It'll be good for you," she'd said. "You'll feel normal, and much more regulated this way. You'll get a little bit of this rationality back to you."

Weakly, Hiro just picked a random day off the top of his head. "Friday?" It couldn't even be a statement, it was so reluctant.

Mai just blinked, looking at him carefully for a heartbeat that seemed more like a lifetime.

His heart was hammering against his chest by this point.

 _You idiot. You can't even keep track of the stupid days of the month? She asked you to do this_ one _thing. And you couldn't even do it! You should feel ashamed of yourself._ He _was right: you're so pathetic. She's going to be angry. No— she's not going to be angry. She's going to be_ pissed _at you._ He closed his eyes tightly, struggling to keep his head on his shoulders. But it was hard. It was so, _so hard_ to do. Mai had said something for him to do when things got like this. She had told him what he should do when things got too hard in his mind to sludge through. But he couldn't remember what she had said to do. Not right now. Maybe he had never heard what she had said in the very beginning.

 _Wow; you really_ are _stupid._

Mai brightened, a sympathetic smile coming over her face now. Though her gaze stayed attentive onto Hiro, her voice was just as enforcing. "It's Monday, Hiro," she corrected, not missing the immediate sense of disappointment that flashed over his expression. "Don't worry, don't worry," she said at once, not at all meaning to make his situation even worse. "It takes some practice to get yourself back into everything, doesn't it?" Hiro didn't reply. He inched closer, Mai feeling a sense of relief at least at the fact that he was getting better at handling the wheelchair. "But you've got to keep trying, isn't that right?"

He gave a small nod.

He was slowly getting better at moving in this thing.

"It's December twenty-first," Mai continued. Hiro sharpened a little bit with surprise, but he kept dragging his arms forward, in the effort to move the wheels. At this point, he was just crawling back to Aunt Cass. "It's only four more days until Christmas, that's got to be something to look forward to, then?" That was another one rearing its head all over again. She was always reiterating the fact that he needed to take things and look forward to them— to drive in its direction. So far, he was having issue with that. It was clear by the look on her face that she was waiting to see that sense of energy or anticipation she had been trying to drag out of him ever since their first meeting.

But Hiro was just silent. Her words brought another voice to his head. One that rang and bounced against his skull, back and forth.

' _It's Christmas! It's our first together, isn't that wonderful?'_

' _You being here is gift enough.'_

"Hiro?" She sounded concerned now. She always got concerned when Hiro fell silent and started to stare off into space. That was when she just started to talk more and made it all worse. So he struggled to drag himself out of his stupor enough to keep pushing himself along. "Are you alright?" she asked, making care to keep her voice soft. Hiro bit down hard on his lip and gave a few tense nods. His chest felt way too tight to properly take in air. He ran into the wall again, and he could feel his fingers start to tingle and lose feeling. His heart was picking up more and more, and he felt his eyes sting and start to burn. Even with his glasses on, he could see his eyesight blur and warp.

Mai stepped away from the end of the hall now, walking over to him quickly. Hiro tried to open his mouth and bite something out at her sudden advance, but he didn't have the time to before she was kneeling down in front of him. She raised her eyebrows, looking at him with a soft smile. "You've come very far," she repeated gently, crossing her arms over her chest.

Hiro continued to stare miserably at her. It didn't _feel_ like he'd come very far. He still couldn't sleep right— they had recently given him some kind of medicine to help him go to bed, otherwise he wouldn't be able to. He still felt sick after he ate; if his not eating didn't make Aunt Cass so upset, he would push away every plate that they gave him. His leg still ached, and his back was still stiff, even if he had been cleared as technically 'recovered' from his surgery. He still couldn't look at his arm, and he was still off-put by the stupidest things. And he was still very aware of the way that Aunt Cass and Tadashi looked at him when he thought he wasn't paying attention.

"Don't you feel proud of yourself and what you've accomplished?" Mai asked, probing even more. When Hiro just continued to stare at her, she tilted her head a little bit to the side. "You might be released soon; you might be home just in time for Christmas. Wouldn't that be great?"

Despite her encouragement, Hiro continued to just stare at her. But eventually he couldn't even do that. He blinked and looked down at his lap, and his hands that had fallen into place there limply. There was a hard feeling in the middle of his throat, and it made speaking around it hard to do. "I want to go back," he announced in a mumble. Mai drew backwards a little bit, a sense of disappointment flickering over her features. But if Hiro noticed the change in emotion, he didn't show it at all. He just kept eye contact with the floor, not even reaching back for his wheels by now. "I want to go back to Aunt Cass. And Tadashi."

She frowned. "You don't want to keep trying?" she asked slowly. "You're really getting the hang of it."

"No." The refusal was hardly able to be heard; it was just a small gasp. He reached up and wiped at his eyes, causing the glasses to go askew in a frustrating way. He sniffed, trying to stomp down the rising sense of anger. Not towards her— towards himself. At what he couldn't do, and at what he was continuously messing up. _Calm down,_ he snapped at himself. _You're being pathetic. Nothing is wrong right now, except for you messing it all up! If you just calm down for once, you might actually be able to_ do _something!_

Mai was still staring at him closely. Too closely. He felt like he was underneath a microscope. Like he was behind glass at the zoo, standing there only to be gawked at. He couldn't stay out here any longer; he didn't want to be with her anymore. He wanted Aunt Cass. He wanted to stop trying to handle his wheelchair, because he knew that he couldn't do it, and that it was pointless.

So he just repeated himself, refusing to raise his eyes even the slightest bit. "I want to go back."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"It's such a nice day out today, Hiro," Aunt Cass said sweetly, turning to glance back at her nephew from where she was lingering by the window. Hiro didn't react at first; he was staring off into space, towards the wall that was opposite of him. Tadashi, who was sitting at Hiro's bedside, roused at the silence that met her words. He leaned forward a little bit, worried at his lack of attention. Aunt Cass seemed disheartened as well, and, turning away from the glass. She had pulled the curtains aside only a little bit to peek out; sunlight was agonizingly painful to Hiro's eyes, and the doctor had warned against direct contact too fast. So they pretty much kept the windows shuttered 24/7. "Hiro?" she asked softly, her hands moving down to clasp tightly together. Hiro blinked a few times, seeming surprised. She tried again. "Hiro, did you hear me?"

"…No," he said, reluctantly turning to look over at her. His eyes were shrouded with puzzlement, and even a hint of fright. He took a quick breath, apparently realizing the mistake that he had made. "I'm sorry," he immediately said, Cass wilting at the all-too-easy admission of guilt. He was always guilty nowadays, it felt like. "No, I didn't hear you. What…what did you say?" Again, he added on a small: "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, honey," she was quick to say. "Don't— don't worry about it. It's not important, I promise." He didn't look comforted at all with the reassurance, and she couldn't really blame him for that. She tried to offer him a smile anyway, walking away from the window so that she could go and meet her two nephews instead. Hiro's eyes had fallen down to the blankets that were on him. His shoulders were drooped low, and after a few moments, she noticed that his eyes were slowly gravitating over to the warped scar that was on his arm.

She felt her stomach cave out from underneath her, and she tried not to fall into the trap of doing the same thing. Instead, she cleared her throat and forced her voice to become bright and bubbly. "I was just thinking about Christmas," she declared. Tadashi smiled, and Hiro noticeably forced himself to the do the same thing. "What do you want to do?" She thought of last Christmas— how guilty and upset she had felt opening presents and celebrating without him. Now he was here. He was safe, and even though he was still injured and sad, he was back with them.

Hiro offered her a shrug. "I dunno," he said softly. "Anything. I'll do anything."

She kept up her grin. Aunt Cass leaned over and put her hand gently on top of his, her eyes straining to remain bright. "I say we make some of your favorite sweets!" Tadashi propped himself up on the edge of Hiro's bed, grinning from ear-to-ear. Obviously, he was thinking along the same track that Cass was. Last Christmas was awful. And…frankly, he didn't want to ask Hiro how his was. Fixing the holiday would be one little thing— it would be small, and in the long run it would be insignificant. But it was a start to _something_. It was hard not to think along those lines as Aunt Cass went on. "And we could watch your favorite Christmas movies, too! I have a feeling that you'll have tons of presents to open!" She waggled her eyebrows, grinning more widely now.

Hiro gave a small nod. "Yeah. Sure. Of course."

She tilted her head to the side. And, cautiously, she reached over to drag her hand lightly through his hair. It was a bit longer, after a month in the hospital. But it was still far shorter than it had been when he had left. "You doing okay, honey?" she whispered softly. He bit down on his lower lip, but he didn't say anything. "Sweetie?" she prompted. "Is there something wrong? Do you want to talk about it?" He hadn't said a single thing to her about what had happened when he had been taken away from them. And she couldn't very well watch the news and get it from there, when he was with her all the time. So whenever he got silent, or whenever he stared off into space, she had no idea what was running through his head. She wasn't about to try and pry any information out of him, but at the same time, it made her feel completely helpless.

When he spoke, his voice was quieter than usual. Granted, that he was much more soft-spoken now as it was, but he was even softer now. "Can…can you please get me something to eat?" he mumbled. Tadashi perked with this. Hiro didn't eat often, and when he did, it was in small amounts. It was like pulling teeth to get something down his throat; he had never asked for food on his own, it was always shoved in his direction. Was he asking now because he genuinely wanted to eat, it was it because he was just looking for a way out of this situation? Somehow, Tadashi was more than sure it was the latter.

But if Aunt Cass thought the same, she didn't show it. She just immediately pulled away, more than willing to do anything that would possibly help her nephew. "Of course!" she said. "Of course! Yes! I'll— I'll go down and get you a little something!" It almost hurt to hear how driven she was to help. She leaned over and pecked a small little kiss on top of Hiro's head. Tadashi looked away when he saw the slight cringe cross Hiro's features. "I'll be right back," came the promise that was always made whenever she left for even the slightest amount of time.

Her footsteps led out, and Tadashi looked up just in time to see the door of their room close. The two were left alone, and for a moment or two, complete silence wrapped its hands around their throats. Tadashi looked down for a moment, sorrow engulfing him briefly at the fact that there was so much tension in between them. Before, there wasn't a single trace of awkwardness in their relationship. They were as close as close could possibly be. The only flaw in their relationship was the Bot Fighting, and that had only sprung up once Hiro had graduated.

Now, it was like a wall had sprung up in between them.

He coughed a little bit, to make sure that his voice was clear, and could be heard. Then he turned over to his baby brother. "You okay?" he asked. Hiro's eyes flickered over to him, but they did not stay longer before he ducked back to the side. Tadashi nodded a little bit, turning down to focus back on the blankets as well. When he spoke next, his voice was carefully forceful. He had seen Hiro flinch sharply away from anything that was too harsh, so he tried to refrain from putting too much pressure in his tone. But still, he wanted to push his point forward.

"You know…you don't have to talk about it," Tadashi stated calmly. He could feel Hiro's gaze swivel back over to him. "If you don't want to, I mean. But…I think…I think that holding it all in won't…it's not good for you, you know? Maybe if you talked a little bit, we might be able to help you. Because I hate seeing you when you're upset like this. I want to help you." He looked over at him. Hiro's expression was unreadable, but his jaw was locked backwards suddenly, as if he was trying to hold something back, or trying to stifle something. Tadashi shrugged in a powerless sort of way. "You're my baby brother," he reminded, his voice just a small croak by now. "I want to keep you safe. I want…I want to keep you happy." He swallowed a lump in his throat and said a bit pathetically: "I didn't do too well with that first one. So I want to make sure I get the second right."

There was a long pause.

It seemed as though Hiro would not reply, and though it was disheartening, it was not surprising at all. Tadashi started to lean back and draw away, wondering whether or not he could turn on the TV and find something unrelated to try and distract them with. It would be a gamble not to run into anything that might upset Hiro, and him alike. But the sounds would at least fill up the void of silence, and at the moment, if such a thing could be accomplished, it would be worth it. But just as he was about to reach for the remote, he was stopped short.

Hiro's voice was short and tense. "Why can't you just _say_ it?" he demanded, his voice almost sharp.

Tadashi hesitated. He blanched for a moment, but after a second he blurted out a small: "W-What?"

Hiro was still looking away, bitterness like salt in his voice. "Why can't you just say what you're thinking and not hold it back?" Tadashi just stared, not sure at all what he was supposed to say. He wasn't even sure what Hiro was talking about. And when his brother continued, his voice fractured a little bit. The anger that was primarily guarding his words cracked, and the sadness and sorrow that was hidden underneath started its surge forward. "Just say it, before it drives me _insane_." He reached up to press his hands up against his forehead. "Why can't you just _say_ that this whole thing is my fault? Instead of trying to make me feel better about it?"

He might as well have been slapped across the face. Tadashi straightened at once, his eyes getting about ten times bigger. He had to stop himself and double-check that he had heard his brother correctly. But there wasn't much mistaking the meaning behind his words. "Blame you?" he asked, disbelief and shock in every aspect of the question. When Hiro just shut his eyes tightly, trying not to react any more than he already had, Tadashi pushed on quickly. "Hiro, how on earth could we think that _anything_ was your fault? _None of this_ is because of _anything_ that you did."

"It is, though!" Hiro cried. He turned and tried his best to meet his brother's gaze. But his lower lip was beginning to tremble, and looking at him straight-on was suddenly almost impossible. Despite the fact that his throat was getting more and more swollen, he forced himself to speak. He had to get it out. It had been eating at him ever since he had gotten his very first reassurance from Aunt Cass that everything would be fine. Because that was all he _got_ , now. All he got were reassurances, when really, he knew that he didn't even come close to deserving them. " _Everything_ that happened was because I was stupid!" Tadashi was string at him with an open mouth. He looked horrified. "None of this would have happened if I was smarter! If I had listened to you! If I hadn't agreed to get in the car!" His voice was getting higher and higher as he went on. More and more strained, and it got quicker and rushed. "If I had fought back more! If I hadn't acted on impulse! If I hadn't been so stupid! If I wasn't just like _her_! If I wasn't just like Abigail! If I wasn't—"

"Hiro, Hiro, _stop_!" Tadashi yelled in the effort to speak up over him. By this point, Hiro was gasping unevenly in and out. His eyes were wide, and his pupils were dilated in fear. He had that faraway expression on his face again, and Tadashi had to quickly get over his initial shock so that he could drag him back into reality. From…wherever he had drifted off to. "Hiro, all the blame goes onto Callaghan, okay?" he asked, basically having to spit the words out of his mouth. It was almost like he was gagging, it was so hard to get out. "This is all his fault! He's the one in the wrong, not you! _Nothing_ is on you. You can't think anything different. This is all because of him, and he's going to pay for it."

"But that's not what you think!" Hiro protested harshly. He pressed his hands down hard into his eyes, ignoring the pain that it inflicted. "You blame me for what happened! You know that I'm to blame too!" Tadashi drew back, his expression written over with misery. "You wish that I had listened to you about the Bot Fighting, and you know that the only reason I was taken was because I was stupid!" He looked back at Tadashi, and Tadashi had to make a significant effort not to immediately cringe away from the look that was on his little brother's face. " _Say it_!" Hiro pleaded, his voice cracking in half, almost. "Say it, because I can't take it anymore!" When Tadashi was still completely silent, he cried out again. " _Blame_ me! _Blame me_!"

Tadashi finally got his voice to work, and it came out in a forceful snap. "I'm not blaming you," he said. "For _anything_. And neither is Aunt Cass. So _you_ have to stop blaming yourself, okay?" He stopped and tried to make his voice much softer, and more controlled. "And it's going to take a while, but you've got to start working on it now. Nobody is blaming you. That's why we want you to get better so much— it's because we know that you didn't deserve anything that happened. And we're going to get you better, right?" He tried not to let himself sound anything other than bracing. "That's all that's—"

He broke off, realizing that Hiro wasn't listening to him anymore. His head was hung down low, and his shoulders were moving harshly with his erratic breathing. And tears were starting to make their way fast down his cheeks. Before, Hiro never cried. He wasn't anything but cheery or stubborn or even flippant at times. Now, during this past month, it was the most common thing in the world to see him cry. Sometimes he cried in harsh, heartbreaking sobs that seemed to rip at his chest. That was usually at night, after he was woken up from some nightmare. But most of the times it was like this— silent, and hardly noticeable, unless you looked hard at him.

He tried to do it secretly, in the hopes that they would not notice. But they always did.

Tadashi was currently struggling not to do the same exact thing. He took in a slow breath through his nose and leaned a bit closer. "Look at me." Hiro did so, but very reluctantly and slow. The look on his face was like a punch to the gut, but Tadashi tried not to react as sharply. "Nothing is on you, okay? And everyone understands that. You don't actually think that we would ever hold this against you, do you? Me and Aunt Cass? We wouldn't _ever_ be mad at you. Not for a second."

Hiro closed his eyes again. He didn't look at him.

Tadashi lowered his voice into a small murmur. "Is that what you thought?" he asked softly. "That whole time you were gone, did you think we were angry with you?" Granted, a couple of times, he had wished that Hiro _had_ just stayed in that night. But that was only because he was worried for him, not because he was angry with him and his actions. He never felt anger towards his little brother. He only felt harsh, biting concern. And even now, when Hiro was back, it was all Tadashi could feel. "And that's…still what you think now?" His voice was tinged over with shock and disbelief. He thought of Hiro, all alone and thinking that Tadashi and Aunt Cass were angry with him. Hiro didn't reply, and he whispered out a small: "Hiro?"

Hiro remained hiding away. His voice was soft, but it was enough to completely shatter the silence that was around them. "I'm tired," he admitted in a rasp. Tadashi's eyebrows rose, and his mouth still hung slightly ajar. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say— he didn't even know what Hiro meant. But a thin feeling of dread started to unfurl in the pit of his stomach when Hiro uttered another small: "I'm tired of everything."

The admission was small. It was quiet. It was out of the blue. It was heavy.

Tadashi's breath was taken away. He just gawked at Hiro, completely lost. There was a sound at the other end of the room, and when he looked over in its direction, he realized that the door was open again. Aunt Cass was back, standing in the doorway with a bag of chips in her hands. It was from the vending machine, just by the room. She hadn't been gone long at all. And that just left Tadashi to wonder how long she had been there, and how much she had listened to.

But the look on her face showed a distraught sense of sorrow and confusion. He could tell, gauging her stricken expression, that she had heard enough. That they both had. Both of them were wearing the same sense of fright and confusion and sorrow. And now that Tadashi realized Aunt Cass had come back, they realized that they could exchange this similar look. But there wasn't much point in exchanging. Both of them were completely lost on what to do; the fact that they were looking at one another with nothing just made the fact that more obvious.

Aunt Cass was first to jar herself back into awareness. She rushed forward, instantly spouting reassurance and comforting words. The bag of chips went forgotten and discarded on the bed; she basically just dropped them, not even caring were they landed. And she reached out, wrapping Hiro in a tight hug and pulling him close to her. She was talking— her words were rushed. Tadashi just couldn't figure out one word from another. It was all a blur, having faded into the background of it all. He just stared at Hiro in shock, floored and confused.

And trying desperately not to face the gravity of the words that had just been spoken.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Please take some care. We don't want to mess things up." Aunt Cass was fretful and worried. She was shifting her weight from one foot to the other, and her hands were wringing together tightly where they were resting. Her brown eyes were alight with fear as she looked from one person to the other, and she was starting to wonder whether or not she should double back on her decision to not have them go in separately. As long as they were civil-minded, certainly they could all go in together, right? But she just wasn't sure. This was all new to her. She didn't want to make a mistake.

"Of course," Honey Lemon replied, sounding almost as anxious as the other was. She glanced over at Gogo, who offered a small nod in turn. Fred was sobered from his usual attitude of hyperactivity, though Wasabi kept glancing over at him in spurts, as though he was trying to make sure that he was staying in line. All of them had been told that they needed to be wary and mindful. They were to be the first non-family visitors to see Hiro, and they all knew all that was entailed by that. This was big, and they couldn't ruin a single thing. "We'll be very gentle."

She nodded a few times. Though even as she leaned over and opened the door for them, she still seemed more than concerned. "Hey, guys?" Cass murmured, the entire group registering how soft her voice became with the call. "We've got some friends to come and say hello." She had asked Hiro if he was ready for this, and he had relented that he was fine. But at the same time, he was hardly ever one to object to _anything_ anymore, he was so skittish. She was worried that he had just agreed because he hadn't wanted to do anything else.

Hiro was in bed like he always was. Though he had been cleared to get into a wheelchair, or even try and start walking again after his back surgery, he refrained from doing such. Mostly he just stayed in bed. And when he had to get up for things like the bathroom, his face was always pinched over in pain. Tadashi was sitting on the end of the bed, rousing and looking over his shoulder. His eyes lit up at the sight of his friends, while Hiro just seemed anxious. It probably didn't help that he wasn't really friends with any of these people as it was. But they had done so much while he was gone, and they were so invested in the situation, that Aunt Cass was sure this kindness would come through to her youngest nephew.

Sure enough, Honey Lemon started forward, already softening over with kindness and sympathy. "Hello, Hiro," she said. He didn't say anything, but he didn't shrink away either, which was a little bit of a triumph. "Um— I'm Honey Lemon. It's so nice to meet you. And I'm so glad that you're alright." Aunt Cass stiffened a little bit, worried as her eyes flickered in between the two of them. Tadashi was just as present as well, his hands clenched tightly together. After a month of just the three of them, there were suddenly others.

The world was suddenly starting to come back to them.

Gogo offered a smile, rounding around Honey Lemon so that she was standing at her side. "Hey there. I'm Gogo." She turned, gesturing towards the two boys that were standing off from them. "That's Wasabi, and that's Fred, over there. I hope it's…cool that we're here and all. We're just really worried about you. Mostly we just bug your brother for updates, but I'm pretty sure he's blocked all our numbers by this point. Can't really blame him, though." She tried to make some kind of joke to see whether or not it would work, and Hiro would crack a smile or a laugh.

But Hiro just seemed too daunted in the face of all the new people in front of him. His forehead was creased, and his fingers were dug down into the fabric of the blankets. His eyes were crowded with apprehension as well, and Tadashi leaned over to put a hand comfortingly on Hiro's good leg. The touch seemed to help a little bit, and Hiro tried to offer some kind of acknowledgement towards the group. But mostly it was pretty pathetic. So he just tried a small: "Hi."

"We were so worried about you," Wasabi spoke up, Hiro looking quickly over at the new voice. "We're really glad you're safe. We've all been sleeping a little bit better, ever since you've come here." He laughed, to show that he was only joking, even if it was half-true. Hiro tried out a grin, but he could feel the artificiality of it. Wasabi tried to go on, though he could tell that both Tadashi and Aunt Cass were concerned for him going too far. "I'm sure you're really happy to be back, too."

Gogo shot her friend a sharp look.

Honey Lemon quickly took a step forward and rushed to say: "I heard you might be getting out of here soon! Maybe even before Christmas! I bet you're super excited to get back home! It's exactly how you left it, I'm sure!" She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear— a nervous tic for her that she could never really shake from her childhood. "And— you know, if you ever want, we would totally love to come over and see you. We could hang out and have some fun!" Her smile was slowly fading into something awkward; she felt her face grow warm with self-consciousness. "As long as you don't mind hanging out with your brother's friends, I mean," she giggled out.

Hiro looked down at his hands. His expression was nervous, and he bit down on his lower lip. But to Honey Lemon's relief, he did bring himself to speak. "Yeah. Yeah…of course. Sure." There wasn't much feeling behind it, but that didn't really matter. Not right now, anyway. Honey Lemon just breathed out a sigh of air she hadn't realized she'd been holding at the admission.

Fred had drifted over to the side while Honey Lemon had been talking. He was now bent over, inspecting the buttons that were on the side of Hiro's bed. "This looks pretty fancy!" he commented, Hiro jumping at the shout. He turned, his eyes wide and his heart thumping. Fred didn't even realize that he had scared him, though. He just leaned over, pressing the up and down buttons off and on, watching the effect with an impressed look. "You got like…an _awesome_ bed! Oh _man_ , do I wish I had one of these! It's like a _spaceship_!"

"Can you—?" Hiro started to ask for him to stop. His back didn't necessarily hurt as much anymore, but it was stiff as a board. But before the request could roll off his tongue, he was quickly shut up. He instead turned away, hunching his shoulders a bit as he pressed his lips together. But Tadashi picked up on what he meant, and so he shot Fred a look to tell him to knock it off. It wasn't really an uncommon thing for him to do that, and Fred picked up the message pretty quickly as he drew backwards.

All the same, he gestured to the bed with an impressed look. "That's _really_ awesome," he stressed.

Hiro blinked, but didn't say anything.

Tadashi cleared his throat. "I was just telling Hiro about the time that Gogo was almost arrested because the police officer because she was going thirty over the speed limit, and she got out of it." He turned and looked over at Gogo, flashing her a smirk. "To this day, it was the most _stunning_ form of evasion I have _ever_ seen. I think I gained about 50% more respect for you after that fateful day."

Gogo laughed. "That guy never knew what hit 'im," she said dismissively.

Wasabi grinned, turning and flashing a glance over at Hiro excitedly. "Oh, did you tell him about the time that Gogo managed to sneak into that casino? She won like five hundred bucks, didn't you, Gogo?"

She leaned back, putting her hands on her hips haughtily. "It was seven," she corrected.

The others dissolved into laughter, and Honey Lemon coined in with some other kind of story about their antics. Fred joined in as well, about some get-together that had gone completely wrong, and then turned up like those type of situations did in comedy movies, or family-friendly ones. They were all invested in the tales that were spouting forward like water, trying to make Hiro feel better and more connected by sharing these things with him exclusively. But, sitting there and listening to them talk, it made Hiro suddenly feel the exact opposite.

He sat completely still in the bed, a frown slowly growing bigger and more morose with each second that passed. He felt a hollow sensation in his chest, and even though he tried to tell himself that it wouldn't get any better unless he contributed to the conversation, he couldn't bring himself to. He didn't _have_ anything to throw in. The only stories he had were things that he just wanted to forget. The only thing he could do was turn and duck his head down to study the threaded pattern of his blankets, which had long since been engraved into his mind.

Hiro listened to each story, and each barely-controlled bubble of laughter, which both fell on his ears like dead weights.

Suddenly, it dawned on him that he felt as though he was a million miles away from the group, instead of just a few feet.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"You're going to want to take these sunglasses. His eyes will still be very sensitive to actual sunlight, and you'll want to take care to not harm his vision any more than it already is. So these can fit over his glasses; don't worry about that." The doctor had come up to meet with them for the final time. It was Christmas Eve, at exactly 9:30 at night. After a little bit more than a month of intensive care and treatment and therapy of all kinds, they were finally being released.

Well— released was a rather strong word. Hiro was still required to come back to the hospital frequently for more physical therapy, and to talk to Mai. He wasn't out of the woods yet in terms of recovery, but he was able to now switch to outpatient care. He had been cleared medically well enough to go home, as long as he kept to bedrest, and when he did move around, he utilized a wheelchair that the family was being given. All day, they had been preparing to go home, and it was finally here. Currently, they were just getting their last few instructions. Hiro was still subdued, studying the wall that was nearest to him. Tadashi was sitting steadfastly at his side, flashing him worried looks every so often. And Aunt Cass was talking to the man, wishing that she could have a notebook to take this all down.

She reached over and took the sunglasses, a grateful smile already on her face. The doctor – she recalled his last name to be Phillips – then reached into his pockets and withdrew a bottle of pills. He shook it for effect before extending it out to her kindly. "Sleeping pills, to help him during the night. We've been giving him some already, because he's having trouble, but this is some that you can take. Just one a night; anything else, and the dose will be too much."

"Okay," Aunt Cass murmured, seeming anxious. "And…when do we come back, again?"

"You can come back for more therapy and work every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Beginning next week, of course," he replied. "It'll start off as very frequent outpatient care, but gradually it'll ease off once his leg and his back recover more. But we'll take it slow, on all ends." He turned and tried to offer Hiro a smile. But Hiro was distracted by something, looking off to the other end of the room. He had that faraway look in his eyes that brought a pang to Aunt Cass' heart, and she tried to garner the man's attention back to her.

"Thank you very much," she said. He looked back at her and smiled, offering a small nod. "So…we're free to go, then?" She glanced over at Hiro, wishing that her nephew would be as excited as she was to get back home. Surely he had missed his bed? The living room? He hadn't seen Mochi either, in over a year. He _loved_ Mochi. "Just…whenever?"

He softened. "Yes, indeed. We've brought the wheelchair for you, and you can just roll out whenever you'd like." He turned and looked over at Hiro. "I'm sure you'll be more than happy to be getting home, huh, Champ?" he asked. Hiro glanced up at him, his lips staying pressed tightly together. Doctor Phillips tried again, like he always did whenever Hiro just looked awkwardly back. "It's been a privilege looking after you. And I hope I'll see you again one day, completely healthy and full of life, huh?"

Hiro offered him a thin smile. "Yeah. Of course." It was the reply he usually gave. But at least it was something.

Doctor Phillips turned back to Aunt Cass and nodded. "Then you're all set," he said. "We've got Hiro's clothes all washed and ready for him to wear home. I've set them over by the couch." Hiro turned, his eyes heavy as he looked at the small pile. It was his old jacket, and his shorts and his red shirt. The outfit he'd gotten taken in, and, oddly enough, the outfit he had been found in. And now it was the outfit he was going to wear home. "I'll let you get to it then. And I'll be glad to hear Hiro's progress from this point on."

Tadashi turned to fetch the stack of clothes, separating himself from his little brother. Aunt Cass gushed over with gratitude, reaching out to shake the doctor's hand. "Thank you very much," she beamed. "I don't know how I could ever repay you for helping us get here. It means so much to us."

"Of course. It was my pleasure," he said swiftly. He turned, reaching out to Hiro. Predictably, the child flinched away from the movement initially. It was a habit that they had been trying to break recently, with the help of Mai. But so far, the efforts had not paid off. Just yesterday, he had cringed away from Tadashi, who had just reached over to try and fix a strand of hair that was hanging down in his face. To Cass' relief, the doctor didn't even bat an eye in surprise. He just continued to reach over, a little bit more slowly, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm very glad to see you able to leave. I know you'll be just fine."

Hiro grinned. He watched the doctor turn and leave.

Just fine. He had seemed sure of that, when he'd said it. More than sure. It was as if he'd already seen how it all planned out. Hiro's smile slowly wilted as the thought crossed his mind.

He wished he could be that sure that everything would turn out okay.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Everything looked darker. And he was pretty sure that he looked completely ridiculous wearing shades over his own glasses on the way down to the car. He kept his eyes down, though he could feel everyone's eyes on him anyway as they went through the hall. He stared down at his jacket, realizing that it was still pretty baggy on him. Listlessly, he felt the soft sleeves, trying to take comfort in the touch of his own clothes. Not Abigail's, and not the hospital's. It was his.

Wasn't it?

"We finally get to go home!" Aunt Cass was ecstatic, grinning from ear to ear as she pushed Hiro along in his wheelchair. "Oh, this is going to be so great! What do you want for breakfast tomorrow morning, Hiro? I'll make you absolutely anything! Aw, you'll be able to sleep in your own bed tonight and everything!" She leaned over a bit, trying to catch her nephew's eye. "You'll be right back with Tadashi up in your room! Aren't you excited?"

This brought a genuine smile to come over his lips. Hiro's eyes softened over completely. He had spent countless nights sleeping alone, trying to remember what it felt like to have someone just on the other side of the room. He tried to recall the normalcy that he and Tadashi had had, with their nightly ritual of getting ready for bed, and then calling out the soft 'G'night' before falling asleep. He would always wish that when he turned over to the side, he would see Tadashi in his same old bed, there for him to wake up if he needed him.

He'd always needed him.

Now he would finally have it all back.

"Yeah," he said, brightening up gradually. He thought of the kitchen, where he had baked dozens of things with Aunt Cass. Or the couch that he used to sprawl on with Tadashi and play video games for hours. It would be _his_ house again. They would be _his_ memories that would be around every corner. It wouldn't be Callaghan's, or Abigail's. He would be right back where he belonged. Right back where he was before that night he had decided to leave and go downtown. "Yeah, it'll be really— it'll be really good." His voice was lighter than it had been in a while. "I'm excited."

"Oh, great!" Aunt Cass was clearly shot over the moon with this reply. She looked like she was fit to burst. "This is going to be great! We can— we can have a party! We've got to celebrate, after all! We can have a really good breakfast tomorrow and maybe watch some movies together! You know— like we used to!" They didn't usually watch marathons together anymore. Once Tadashi got involved with college, they didn't really have time to spend like that. But the recollection back to it was enough to make Hiro melt a little bit more. "We can do whatever you like, Hiro!" Cass went on brightly.

Tadashi flashed his little brother a small smile. He leaned over and paused just briefly, waiting for Hiro to realize what he was doing first, so he wouldn't startle him. Once Hiro did turn, he grinned and ruffled his hair, taking care to be gentle and not harm his injuries in any way. Though most of them had healed, he still had the tendency to get dizzy or nauseous a little easily. He didn't want to trigger that at all. But behind the concern, there was still an overload of affection in his eyes. "You've got her eating out of the palm of your hand," he chuckled. "You've got to be careful with that much power!"

Hiro gave a small laugh. He was about to say something in reply, when suddenly there was a high shout.

"Hiro! Wait a second! Hold on!" All three of them perked at the sudden yell. Aunt Cass halted in her pushing Hiro, and she backtracked so that Hiro could turn back as well. Against the sunglasses he was wearing, Hiro narrowed his eyes a little bit, confused as he realized that Ami was running up to them. Her ponytail was bouncing erratically with each rushed step, and there was a wild smile on her face once she came to a stop in front of them. She looked from one person to the other in greeting, but her eyes eventually turned to rest on top of her young patient. "You weren't going to leave without saying goodbye to _me_ , were you?"

Hiro felt a small sting of regret. He hadn't opened up to her or anything like that, but she had been involved with the family this entire time. Even when he was moved out of Intensive Care, she always made it a habit to go and check on him frequently. And going by the look that was in her eyes right now, she was going to be sorry to see him leave. "Oh, no— of course not! I'm sorry." Again, he dragged up the corners of his lips. "You were— you were really nice. I'm going to miss you."

She softened, tilting her head to the side a little bit. "Oh!" She beamed. "You are just the _sweetest_ little kid." Her eyes flashed a little bit as she looked over the injured boy in front of her. But she recovered quickly and went on. Glancing over at Aunt Cass, she turned and knelt down so that she could be at his eye level. And seeing Hiro's expression flicker over a little bit with nervousness, she made sure that her voice was soft and soothing. But mostly bracing. "You're going to go on to do _wonderful_ things, Hiro," she reassured him. He blinked, his face falling a little bit with surprise. But she just grinned and shook her head. "I'm so excited for you, now. And I really, _really_ hope that one day you can get excited too." Aunt Cass frowned a little bit, and Tadashi shoved his hands down glumly into his pockets.

Hiro stared blankly, not at all sure what he was supposed to say. His mouth hung halfway open, and he groped uselessly for something. Anything. But he came up useless.

Thankfully enough, Ami didn't seem to need anything more. She kept her smile on her face, and she just drew back to stand up again. "Even if I'll miss you, I am glad you get to go home." She cleared her throat and offered the others a small wave. "It's been a pleasure helping you guys along. I wish you all the best going forward."

"Thank you," Aunt Cass said, Tadashi giving a fervent nod beside her. "Thank you for everything."

"Of course!" She gushed. She looked at Hiro sweetly. "I hope you have a wonderful first night back home!" He gave a small nod, feeling the slightest bit better. Ami turned and started back the way she had come, more than likely having to pack up all her things before leaving. She didn't normally work the nights; when Hiro was in Intensive Care she was always only there during the day. Aunt Cass started to turn Hiro back so that they could get to the car again. When there was yet another shout. "Oh, wait!"

Cass looked back over her shoulder. Ami was backtracking over to them again. There was a slightly more anxious expression on her face now, and Hiro saw her nervous gaze flicker down to him. Tadashi realized it as well, and, subconsciously, he sidled over to be a little bit closer to his brother. "Now— I don't know how closely the police have been talking with you," she murmured, speaking to Aunt Cass now, who was quickly sobering.

Ami gestured down to Hiro, yet she still tried to keep her voice low. The effort was wasted, though. "When Hiro was brought in, he was wearing a necklace. Two little rings brought together?" His stomach dropped as the necklace was forced back up from the back of his mind. He had almost forgotten about it. "The police took it from us. They said that it was evidence. I didn't know whether or not it was his originally. Because— you know, they brought back his clothes, but they didn't bring his necklace back. So…you know, if that _was_ his, you'll need to go to the police station to get that."

Aunt Cass deflated a bit. Tadashi shifted with concern.

It dawned over Ami, and she frowned a bit. "That's…it wasn't his…then?"

Hiro looked off to the side. His reply was nothing more than a whisper. "No. It wasn't."

Guilt was quick to overtake every aspect of her features. "Oh," she murmured. "I'm sorry. I just…I just didn't want you to be confused about it. Just in case you were trying to figure out where it was." She bit down briefly on her lower lip. Then she shook her head. "I'm sorry. I guess it wasn't yours."

"No," he repeated hollowly. He looked down at the tiles, his expression blank. Or at least he hoped that it was blank. That was a better alternative to anything else. He offered a lifeless shrug. And, the words exhaled in a small sigh, he said: "It was hers."

Against his better judgement, he allowed the small side of himself that he tried to shove down most of the time to bubble up to the surface. In nothing more than a growl, it hissed out: _So what makes it anything_ but _yours?_

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It was like taking in a huge gulp of air after being underwater for more than a minute. Or curling up under a warm blanket after being locked out in a blizzard. Whatever it was, it was filled with relief and a calmness that Hiro had not known he had needed.

But oh, did he need it.

The house wasn't exactly accustomed for wheelchair access, so it was a little bit of a hassle to get inside. Tadashi grabbed the front end of the chair, and, with Cass' help, the two were able to shift Hiro up the steps to walk inside the front door of the café. It was embarrassing to begin with, and Hiro was flushed completely with embarrassment as the other two were forced to uptake him as a burden. But as soon as they managed to get inside the bakery, the brief embarrassment was completely forgotten. Instead, it was replaced with that sense of sheer reprieve.

Tadashi set him down, and then stepped to the side, clasping his hands behind his back as he simply took to watching his baby brother. Aunt Cass went over to stand by him as well, looking a little dubious as her eyes trained themselves firmly onto him. Hiro was floored for a moment, just staring at the place in front of him that he had used to spend every day in, basically. He was too caught off-guard to do anything, but he managed to snap himself back into reality and start to push himself forward. He wasn't all that graceful, considering he was still trying to get the hang of the chair. But he went forward anyway, having to focus in order to do so.

He shuffled along, going over to the display case. He remembered the days that he had spent taking cakes out from behind the glass and handing it over to smiling customers. Or handling the cash register, when Aunt Cass was feeling particularly trustworthy. He used to hate it when he was dragged down to help run the café— it used to be such a chore. Thinking about it now was enough to bring a sting to his eyes, and he let out a small laugh, leaning over and pressing his hands flat against the glass. Everything on the other side of it looked perfect— just like he had left it. It was like nothing changed. Nothing at all.

Did the whole house look like this? The same?

Aunt Cass watched him carefully, and at his small giggle, she reached up and covered her mouth with one hand. She turned away, just in case he looked back and caught sight of her. Tadashi noticed though, shifting a little bit and fighting a small wince. Hiro was shifting over again so that he could continue along. There was the menu board that Aunt Cass always loved to decorate differently for every different occasion. There were the little statues of cats that were always around, and the windows that looked out into the street and let in the light during the day.

He stopped, aimlessly turning and looking around. A watery kind of smile went over his face. "It's…" He grasped for the right thing to say. Something he could tell them to have it all make sense. Because it was hard to explain the feeling that was fostering itself in his chest. It was overwhelming, to know that everything was here, throughout all of it. Everything that had happened…everything that had been said…and the café was still sitting here. That his family was still sitting here. Completely untouched. Unscathed. That was what mattered.

 _So sit down. Before you make me go down to the Lucky Cat Café and put a bullet through their heads._

He turned and looked back at Aunt Cass and Tadashi, his eyes welling up. The two looked back at him, too cautious to try and do anything that might upset him. For now, they were just letting him be— letting him come back into things at his own pace, unrushed. There was a smile on his face, but it was a sad kind of smile. One that was a cross between ecstatic and overjoyed, to completely anguished. "Nothing's wrong," he croaked. They seemed a little concerned at this, but he went on before they could say anything over him. "Everything's…everything's safe."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro woke up immediately, his eyes shining bright enough to power the entire city of San Fransokyo for two months straight without fail. A smile was wide on his face, and he knew without a doubt that everything was perfectly fine. It had to be, didn't it? Today was— "Christmas!" The happy shout escaped his lips in a bubble of excitement. Christmas! In _his_ house! He grinned and threw off his covers, turning and bolting up to his feet. He couldn't waste a single second; Tadashi and Aunt Cass would already be downstairs. So he turned and ran for the steps, taking them two at a time on the way down.

But once he got downstairs, he realized that the living room was empty. There wasn't a Christmas tree there, either, or any decorations of the sort. He told himself quickly that it didn't matter. They were downstairs in the café— he knew that already. It must have just slipped his mind. He turned dutifully and started for the other set of stairs. And, hardly able to contain the excitement that was pushing up in his chest, he took these stairs nearly three at a time.

"It's Christmas! It's Christmas! Merry Christmas!" he sang, whirling himself around the banister as he burst into the restaurant. "It's—" His face fell immediately, paling over so that his skin was nothing more than a white sheet. His hand fell off the railing of the stairs limply, slapping against his side with a dull thud. His forehead creased over, and a certain amount of confusion and horror started to sprawl itself over his face, little by little bit.

Blood was _everywhere_. It was all over the walls, and it covered the floor in pools that seemed like they could go thigh-deep. The smell of it was overpowering and sickening, and Hiro stumbled backwards, backpedaling until his back hit the wall behind him. Immediately, he felt the liquid seep through his clothes, and he let out a short scream, looking down at himself with shock and disgust. Quickly, he looked up, trying to find the source of the carnage and gore. And his stomach fell away from him completely once his eyes landed home.

Tadashi and Aunt Cass were face-down on the ground. They looked like they had fallen there aimlessly, or they had been dropped without any care whatsoever. Their limbs were stretched out and folded in grotesque ways that made Hiro's stomach clench. But the thing that was getting to him most was the sheer amount of blood that was caking them completely. Trembling from head to toe, Hiro looked at Tadashi, a gag ripping itself out of his throat at the sight of the deep hole directly in the middle of his older brother's forehead. It was deep and ragged, and it was the wound that had created a majority of the blood that was coating the room.

There was a similar wound in Aunt Cass' head, just as gory and just as painful. Hiro took a shaking step forward, though just the sight of it was enough to make him get sick. "Tadashi?" he whispered, his voice shivering. Tadashi's eyes were wide open, but they were glassy and dead. His expression was frozen in a look of terror, and he didn't react at all to Hiro's call. Hiro turned and looked at Aunt Cass, whose face was just as twisted and frozen. "Aunt Cass?" he whimpered. He felt his knees start to buckle and waver. "Aunt Cass!?" he repeated her name in a sharper cry, but it was no use.

He felt his shoulders start to heave and jerk with suppressed sobs. "Tadashi!" he screamed shrilly. Blood was quick to hold fast to his legs, and he reached down to desperately try and scrub it off. But the more he scrubbed and wiped at the liquid, the more he seemed to get on himself. Before too long, the entire lower half of his body was covered. He was hyperventilating, and he quickly dropped down to his knees, only making the mess worse. But he disregarded it for the moment, just leaning over to try and shake his family awake. "Wake up!" he pleaded. "Wake up! Don't leave me here! Don't leave me! Don't leave me alone! Please!"

He looked up quickly at the sound of footsteps. His features wiped over with panic at the figure that was towering over him. In hindsight, he knew that he probably shouldn't have been surprised. Because, standing in front of him, was the very same person that had promised to do this very thing in the first place. Callaghan was looking down at him, his eyes the coldest thing that Hiro had ever seen. He was spattered over with blood— it was on his face, and his arms, and his clothes, and his legs. In his hand, he was clenching the same gun that he had shoved into Hiro's face time and time again. That was stained with blood too.

It was just _everywhere_.

Hiro was breathing harshly. He didn't say anything— he was too shocked. He just sat there and stared upwards dumbly.

Callaghan's eyes narrowed into slits. His stony expression not fazing whatsoever, he started to speak, and his low growl sent a chill straight down Hiro's spine. "Look at what you made me do." Hiro looked down at his family— at their bodies. Tears welled up in his eyes, and his lower lip began to tremble violently. He still didn't say anything. He couldn't. Not to him. But Callaghan just went on regardless. "I _told_ you this would happen. You just didn't listen to me. You have _nobody_ to blame but yourself."

Hiro struggled to take in gasps of air, and form a coherent sentence. "I— I didn't— I'm sorry— you— I didn't mean for—" He choked back a swallow, his face crumpling in on itself as he hunched forward. "I didn't want this," he sobbed, barely able to be heard by this point. "Why did you do this? Why are you _doing_ this!?" He reached up and rubbed at his eyes, smearing blood on himself in the process. His next words came out in a sharp scream. " _I was finally back_!"

Callaghan reached down and grabbed hold of Hiro's shirt, yanking him up to his feet with enough force to rattle his brain. He whimpered, biting down on his lower lip as hard as he possibly could. Callaghan brought him close, so they were nearly nose to nose. "You were _never_ back," he snarled. "You were never back because you were _always_ going to stay with me. _Always_."

Hiro tried to scrabble at his hold, but he was too frozen in fear to move at all. He just gawked, his eyes huge and wide as he struggled to keep his feet on the ground. Callaghan growled at the obvious fear. "You're coming back with me," he hissed out thinly. "And this time we're going to go where nobody will _ever_ find us."

Hiro gasped in a sharp breath. "Don't!" he begged. He still couldn't move. He was frozen. "Please don't take me! Please! Please let me go! Let me stay! Please!"

Callaghan didn't listen. He put the gun up against the side of Hiro's head and turned, keeping a rough hold on him as he started to drag him towards the door. Hiro's feet dragged on the ground as he was carted away, but he was like dead weight. It didn't matter. He turned, watching in despair as he was pulled away from Tadashi and Aunt Cass. He couldn't fight back, and he couldn't get any help whatsoever. The situation was caving in on him on all sides, and it quickly came over him that it was all over. That his family was murdered, and nobody was left to help him. He was being taken back with Callaghan, and for the rest of his life, the only thing he would be able to see when he closed his eyes was his family's stricken, frozen expressions leering back at him.

There wasn't anything he could do. It was pointless.

So, tears streaming down his face, Hiro did the only thing he could do.

He tipped his head back and started to scream at the top of his lungs. It grated against his throat, and it strained at his lungs, but he didn't even care. He screamed and screeched and sobbed as he was dragged out of the bloodstained place that used to be the Lucky Cat Café. He wasn't sure if he was screaming anything incoherent— if he was calling out for someone to help, or if he was just crying senselessly. All he knew was that everything was falling apart. That his world was splitting right down the middle all over again, when he hadn't even really gotten the chance to piece it back together.

It was happening all over again.

He was going to be taken.

But this time, there wasn't going to be an opportunity for help.

He would be stuck.

He would be—

"Hiro! _Hiro_! Hiro, wake _up_!"

Hiro's eyes snapped open, his chest heaving up and down erratically. He found himself staring right into the face of Tadashi, his older brother leaning over him with a startled expression. His hands were tight on Hiro's shoulders. The first thing that Hiro was aware of, was that fact that his throat felt like it was on fire. He'd been screaming— Tadashi must have…Tadashi must have woken him up after he started yelling. Because the second thing that Hiro realized, was that there wasn't a huge, gaping bullet hole through Tadashi's head. His hair was messed up and haywire, and his eyes were bleary with sleep.

Hiro continued to gasp in and out, and Tadashi kept his hold on him tenderly. He knelt down a little bit more, so that he was on his knees. Hiro was laying down on the couch— they had decided that with his wheelchair, and with how late it already was, they would all sleep down in the living room for tonight. Tadashi's own bed had been made on the floor, however, after being jarred awake by Hiro's screaming, his blankets were tossed off to probably the other side of the room. It was nearly three in the morning; he had been sleeping soundly, finally being able to be at home and not in some hospital room, when the sound of sudden screeching had ripped through whatever peace he had managed to scrape together.

Hiro was still frightened out of his skin. He turned, his eyes wild and crazed as he looked over at his brother. His chest was heaving up and down, and any breath that he managed to take in was thin and raspy against his windpipe. Tadashi had to make sure that he stayed calm; if he let his nerves get away from him, even in the face of something like this, then everything would only get worse. So he put a smile on his face, raising his eyebrows and leaning a little bit closer to him. He kept his hands tightly on his small frame, and tried not to focus how bony he still felt in comparison to before he had left. "Hey, hey!" he said softly. "You were just dreaming! It was just a dream."

How many times had he done this, now?

Would there ever be a time when it would all end?

Hiro sniffed, his eyes welling up with water quickly. He reached over, Tadashi having to fight a wince at the fact that his baby brother's hands were shaking. Hiro jerked forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Tadashi and pulling as close as he possibly could. Listening to his haywire breathing right beside his ears, Tadashi gingerly returned the embrace just a tightly, moving one arm so that he could rub Hiro's back as soothingly as he could. "It's alright," he murmured, dropping the volume in his voice. "It's nothing. It was nothing."

Hiro gasped in sharply, his words coming out as nothing more than a whimper. "He killed you," he sobbed, Tadashi's eyes widening just a little bit as his expression fell into a look of numbness. "He killed you and Aunt Cass— you were both dead, I couldn't fix you. There was— there was blood everywhere, and he said it was my fault! That— that I was going to go back with him! He was going to take me back with him! I was going to go back!" Tadashi squeezed him a bit tighter, and Hiro ducked his head down into his shoulder, his crying now coming off muffled. "He was going to take me back, I was going to be stuck again. It was all my fault. It was all my fault, it was all my fault…"

"It was a dream," Tadashi corrected. "I'm fine, and so is Aunt Cass. He'll never do _anything_ to you, _ever_ again, Hiro, I _promise_ you that." His expression weighed a million tons. His eyes were dull as he looked straight ahead, trying not to dwell too much on the mental images that were being crammed into his mind. The thought of Professor Callaghan…just— it was enough to curdle his stomach. He tried his best to stamp down his disgust and shift back into reality— into what was happening right now. "It was just a bad dream," he repeated. "I'm sorry you had to see that…but I promise you that there's nothing to worry about."

Hiro's grip on Tadashi did not slacken in the least. But when he spoke, his voice was noticeably more tired, the panic gradually ebbing off. "He always said he would," he mumbled, Tadashi's frown only growing. "Whenever I did something wrong. Or tried to get away. He would say that he was going to come down here and kill you. That if I didn't do what he wanted, he would shoot you and Aunt Cass." Tadashi went rigid at the admission— Hiro hadn't told him a single thing about what had happened to him while he was gone. Not recently, anyway, and without any detail at all.

Now, suddenly he was being handed this piece of information.

And he was worried that it would make him vomit on the spot.

"That's—" Words failed him. He could only think of how many times Callaghan had smiled and reassured him while Hiro was gone, promising that things would turn up. Or how many allowances he was given on due dates because he was under the impression that Callaghan was worried for his wellbeing. He got it all wrong. Not a single thing he thought was the truth, was the truth. It was all wrong. So, feeling like the biggest jerk and the biggest idiot in the world, he just rasped dumbly: "That's horrible. That's…awful…"

Silence followed what was arguably the worst response ever transcended onto mankind. Tadashi just held Hiro tightly, and Hiro clung to him like a starfish, still shaking from head to toe. The elder of the two reached up to put his hand comfortingly on the back of Hiro's head, quietly shushing him as his little brother gasped and hiccupped every so often. It felt like a lifetime passed, with just the two of them there in the dark living room, holding so tightly to one another that a crowbar could not have separated them.

Finally, Hiro broke the silence, in a shallow murmur. "What if he comes back for me?"

The thought alone was a stab to Tadashi's heart. He couldn't imagine what it must have felt like for Hiro to experience. He shook his head, making sure that his voice was bracing and sure of itself. "He won't. He won't come back for you, Hiro, he's going to go away for a long time. Once this whole trial gets done— he won't see you again for the rest of his life." He pulled back reluctantly, so that he could look at Hiro square in the face. Though the act was more painful than he thought it would be, given the misery and fear that was wrought across his features. He gave a small nod. "You're going to be just fine," he vowed. " _Nothing_ will happen to you. You're _safe_ here. With us. And that's _not_ going to change. _Ever_."

Hiro sniffed, reaching up and wiping at his eyes. He looked at Tadashi, completely miserable. "Where's Aunt Cass?" he whispered shakily.

Tadashi glanced over to the blankets that were next to his own makeshift bed. They were just as rumpled and forgotten as his own. "She left," he said, recalling how she had slipped off once Hiro had managed to fall asleep. Having stayed at the hospital day in and day out, she hadn't had the chance to get out and actually do some Christmas shopping. Being that the holiday was tomorrow, and that they had the job of making it one of the best holidays that had ever been put together in history, she had gone out for some last-minute cramming. She had texted him about three times so far to check on how things were going in her absence. He probably had more after he had fallen asleep. "She'll be back soon, though. She'll be back before tomorrow."

Hiro wiped at his eyes again. His lower lip was shaking like a leaf in the wind. Eventually he ducked his head and shook it quickly, his eyes closing tight. Tadashi watched with a heavy heart as his brother seemed to grow more and more upset, his features crumbling down into a heap of nothing but sorrow and pain. He gasped again, the hiccupping intake sounding pinched and strained, just like all the other ones. Weakly, he whined out a soft: "What am I supposed to do?" He looked up at his older brother desperately, having no other option by this point. He shook his head. "What am I supposed to do?"

Tadashi tried to figure out what he meant, exactly. But it didn't take more than a few seconds to realize that that was just the point. That he couldn't figure out what it meant, because there was just too much that was messed up— too much that Hiro, and them alike, did not know what to do with. He did not know what to do with being dragged out of nightmares night after night, or jumping whenever someone touched him, or spoke too loudly, or entered a room too fast without warning. He didn't know what to do with the times that he found himself staring emptily into space, or when he was suddenly seized with a harsh blow of panic that came from completely nowhere, which would reduce him into a fit of hyperventilation and crying.

There was too much of it. There were too many problems.

What _was_ he supposed to do with _any_ of it?

Eventually Tadashi shook his head. "I don't know," he rasped. Hiro cringed and grimaced, but Tadashi wasn't finished. He pulled Hiro back into another hug, this one coming across as so forceful and tight, that he was worried that he would hurt his little brother in the process. But Hiro held just as close— he didn't seem to find any fault whatsoever in the hold. Tadashi remembered what he had said when he had first woken up— how he had pleaded so pathetically for Tadashi to hold him and make him feel better. Had that…had that been something that Hiro had asked Callaghan, before?

He quickly pushed away the thought before it could fester and dig underneath his skin. He threw it back and locked it away tightly. He would focus on it later, but right now, it would just make everything worse. He just hugged Hiro, rubbing his back and even shifting to rock him from side to side. Anything that he could do to try and make him feel better, because he could still feel his trembling. "I don't know," he repeated, the words heavier than anything he would wish on even his worst enemy. "But we're going to figure it out," he promised. "Together."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Her cellphone rang, which was something she never wanted to experience when it was 5:30 in the morning. She wasn't sure anyone would be enthused to answer a call at such a time, because the incoming call never usually held anything but bad news. So Cass quickly turned away from the stand she was looking over and answered her mobile, not even glancing at who was calling in her rush. Instantly, her mind just flew to the most likely candidate of the early-morning call, and so her voice was filled with panic as soon as she lifted it up to her ear. "Hello?" she demanded. "Is he okay? Did something happen?"

But the voice that met her wasn't Tadashi's. It was someone she knew— a voice that had called her a few times now. It was that police officer that had been there when they had found Hiro. Officer Hadley was her name, if she remembered it right, and she was sure that she did. "I'm sorry," she said, Aunt Cass immediately perking with surprise. "Did I call you at a bad time? I figured it would be kind of a gamble at this time of morning."

That was true. She wasn't really sure _when_ 5:30 would be a _good_ time to call someone for a conversation. But then again, Cass had been pretty reachable in terms of late nights and early mornings, ever since Hiro had been brought back. She was too worried to fall asleep and not watch over him. She had the bags under her eyes to prove it, just like Tadashi probably did. So she rubbed at her eyes in exhaustion and made sure that her voice was bright when she replied. "No, no, it's fine. I'm awake. Shopping— actually." She turned to look back at the display she had been glancing over before. There were video games of all sorts crowded here, but she wasn't so sure on getting it after taking in the price tag. "What do you need? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing in particular, no," Officer Hadley replied. In the background, Cass could hear the sound of other phones ringing, and papers being shuffled, and other conversation. She must still be down at the station. "I just called to ask you a question that hopefully will not upset you in any way."

She frowned a little bit. "'Upset me?'" she repeated, already feeling a niggling sense of dread creep into her. "Why…why would it upset me?"

There was a small sigh on the other end. "I heard that Hiro got out of the hospital last night," she said, pausing, in case Aunt Cass wanted to interrupt her or prove her wrong. When she just waited for more, Hadley continued. "Well, I was going to ask whether or not it would at all possible for me, or just anybody, really, would be able to go down and ask Hiro a few questions."

The request was the last thing said before silence sprung up in between them. The only sound was the background of the store that Cass was standing in, now motionless as she looked down at the floor. That, and the dim noises on the other end of the line. Cass wasn't sure what she was supposed to say— she wasn't even sure what the question entailed. Or maybe the better idea was that she was just too frightened to consider what it meant. So when she did bring herself to speak, she sounded more than subdued. "I'm…I'm sorry, I'm just…not sure what you mean."

"Well, we would like to get Hiro's account of what happened," she replied. Cass remained tight-lipped, her sense of dread slowly evolving into shock and fright. "I understand if it can't be tomorrow, but we really should be able to meet with him as soon as possible. With everything going on right now, the more we can pin against Robert Callaghan, the better off we will be in terms of his sentence. The longer he'll be put away. We've got a lot of evidence already, obviously, but imagine what we'll be able to do if we can speak with Hiro about it, and get a firsthand account from him."

She didn't say anything. She just tried to picture her nephew, as skittish and scared and small as he was now, sitting there and talking over what had occurred to him as if it was something as simple as the weather. She couldn't do it. All she could think of was how many times she had seen him cry just this month alone, or how many times he had woken up screaming. He had probably woken up doing both tonight, while she was gone, unable to help Tadashi help him.

Officer Hadley continued slowly. "I was thinking…maybe the day after today? December 26th? I could come and just ask a few questions, or see whether he's prepared to talk to us just through it all. That way, we would be able to represent Hiro to the court, and give them all something concrete to focus on." Her voice dropped a little bit in volume, but managed to rise in intensity at the same time. "We allowed for recovery time in the hospital, but this really needs to be finished as soon as it possibly can. And Hiro is a key element with this." There was a small pause before she continued. "This way he doesn't have to go through the strain of making an appearance in court. Not if he doesn't want to."

"Appearing in court…" she murmured despondently. She tried to picture _that_. Her baby, sitting in a wheelchair, under the prying eyes of a huge crowd of people that were just gawking at him. She tried to think of him getting up to the front and speaking about all the horrible things that happened to him, and all that he has to go through now. She closed her eyes tightly and forced out the best thing she could think of. "Can you not just talk to me?" she asked. "I…I don't know what happened to him _then_ , but I know what he's like _now_! I know that…that he can't sleep at night. That he's so stressed out over everything, now. That— that when you're not looking, he just…he just has this _look_ on his face that's…that's just the most heartbreaking thing you've ever seen…" She let her voice trail away. There wasn't much else she could say.

"I think it would be best to talk to Hiro about what happened when he was with Callaghan," Hadley replied, not giving up, though her voice was just the slightest bit apologetic by now. "It'll be what helps most. And I think, in the long run, it'll be what's best for everyone. We don't want anything to be left to chance. We want every little detail to be presented to the court, so that there's no possible way for Callaghan to escape the amount of punishment he deserves. I'm sure you want his jail time to be as long as humanly possible. Or even longer, mind you."

She considered it. Slowly, her anxious expression melted back into one of growing anger and spite. Her eyes narrowed, and her jaw locked backwards. She thought of the man who had the nerve to come and hug her on the night where they held their candlelight vigil. He had held her close and told her that everything would be alright, and then turned straight around to go back and harm her nephew even more. The thought of him getting off from _any_ amount of punishment was just appalling to her. She would rather die than she the likes of him be able to walk the streets, completely free. This entire time, she had just been with Hiro, helping him recover in the hospital. She hadn't seen the man that had reduced her little guy into the state that he was now in.

She had no idea _what_ she was going to do when she finally saw him.

For his sake, the situation _better_ not be made even worse.

She closed her eyes wearily and drew a hand through her hair. "Will...will this help?" she dared to ask. "If…if we do this…it will help?"

"Yes, ma'am," Hadley replied. "It's really the best path for us to take from this point on."

She hesitated. But she had to be honest; she didn't know what else to do, if not this. Here she was, trying her best to make things better as they were. And her 'best' was apparently going to the nearest 24-hour store that was actually open on Christmas, trying to find something that Hiro might enjoy, when she wasn't even really sure if she knew him anymore. Was there really something more that they could be doing? Or would doing something like this completely throw everything off-kilter?

She closed her eyes, agonizing. At her side, her free hand clenched tightly, her fingernails digging down into her skin, branding her with crescent marks of indecision. But finally, she realized that there was no point in floundering anymore. Because that was all they seemed to be doing, recently. Floundering, and waiting for something to hold on to, so they could be dragged back to where they needed to be.

So she nodded. And she said the three words that would either help to _solve_ this mess, or just make it horribly, _horribly_ worse. "I'll ask him."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: Thank you for reading! I'm sorry for the delayed update, but having four stories with a summer job is very very hard. Hence my poll. I hope you all will understand, and not criticize me wanting to reduce some of my stress. But, best case scenario, my least popular fic, the one that gets the least reviews and views and votes and so on, I would rather have deleted, than just sitting on my plate.

But anyway I tried to make this long to make up for the gap! And despite my stress, I _am_ very excited to write next chapter, because I have something planned for it that I've been thinking of for quite some time. It'll be another one of this story's turning points, and you'll see what that means once I manage to post it. So I hope you all are excited, just as I am. I am going to _try_ to update once more before I leave for vacation, so please bear with me. But hopefully soon I'll have a story to drop so I can clear my plate, once the poll shows…

As always, any typos, any questions, any inconveniences, I would be happy to address. I hope you like it; I can't wait to hear what you think of this one! And like I said, next chapter I'm super excited for. We're really starting to get down to the wire, I'll be honest! Kind of bittersweet.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: _'Restless. Walkin' 'round restless. Such a commitment, for bein' alone._

 _Interest. Nothin' but interest. I think I lost it. Forever ago._

 _Is there any way to get out of here…?'_

This chapter is _heavily_ inspired by the song 'A Better Way' from Swiss Army Man. It was a frankly ridiculous movie, but it had a wonderful message, and this song is hands-down my new favorite. And this song goes right along with this chapter, which I hope you'll enjoy. I would recommend listening to it, either before or after reading. Just to set everything together.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

She had giggled, behind the camera. The view had shaken just a little bit with her laughter. She had sounded happy and excited, her laughter coming across as nearly bell-like with how high it was. And why shouldn't she have been happy? The camera was looking out into a scene from a Christmas movie— a lit up tree, garland banisters, hung stockings, and mountains of presents. She had filmed the postcard-perfect scene for the briefest of moments before she had turned with a happy sigh, and a call of: "Merry Christmas!"

And there he had been. Callaghan had been sitting on the couch, looking tired, like all parents did each morning after they had stayed up late to set everything up for the morning holiday. But despite his tiredness, he had looked absolutely thrilled and happy at his daughter's reaction as well. Abigail had looped over to the couch and taken a seat beside her father, shifting over the camera so that her arm was reaching out and getting both of them in the shot. Grinning toothily, she had leaned over and bumped her father with her shoulder imploringly. "Say Merry Christmas, Dad! For the camera!" she had chirped, beaming with enough light to rival the light coming in from outside.

Robert had tried to look irritated, but it was ultimately useless. You could see how happy he was— how enthralled he felt. He had just leaned over and ruffled his daughter's hair affectionately. "Merry Christmas!" he had complied happily, his obedience bringing a giggle out of the young girl. He nudged her next, raising his eyebrows. "Are you going to open your presents?" he had prompted her gently. "Or are you just going to sit there and just _think_ about what they could be?"

She had pursed her lips in a cheeky manner. Her eyes would always flash over with that mischief. "Well so far, I don't see car yet, so I'm already pretty disappointed at this year's haul," she smirked, waggling her eyebrows at the camera. "Why don't you tell all of San Fransokyo that when it comes to gift-giving you're a completely horrible human being with no sense of moral compass?"

He had given out a small sigh. "Abigail, you're not even sixteen yet."

She had turned and made a face. "I _turn_ sixteen in, like, a _month_."

"Well, that's bad timing on your part, isn't it? Should have come a little bit earlier," Robert quipped. This brought a playful scowl to her face, which he ignored. "Go on, Abigail, you've got a few really good ones waiting for you," he'd said. "With all that work I put into decorating, you would think you'd be able to put down your camera for once."

Abigail had giggled, just leaning closer to her father. "Dad's camera-shy!" she had chortled loudly. Callaghan had blown out his cheeks, clearly beginning to feel a touch of actual impatience. Eventually, his daughter had caved and rolled her eyes, shaking her head a bit before leaning over and planting a tender kiss on his cheek. "Fine," she'd huffed with a grin. "I'll put the camera down."

Robert gave a nod. " _Thank you_ ," he had said playfully. "I _appreciate_ it."

"Mhm!" she'd hummed, shifting even closer. "But first, you've got to say it!"

He had looked annoyed only for the briefest of seconds. But he had been quick to melt back into a smile. He had leaned over a bit and raised his arm, waving his hand quickly. "Merry Christmas!" he had offered out, pasting a smile on his face that stretched from ear to ear. Abigail had sat up a bit straighter, so that she was closer to his height, and she had shifted her hold on her camera so she, too, could offer a 'goodbye' to whoever was watching.

The video had ended with the two of them grinning nearly identical smiles, and waving to nobody. Looking completely happy and content with their lives at that moment in time. It was like something that would be in a family movie. It was something out of a picture frame, or a postcard. Something in a story, rather than real life. Or at the very least, this scene in particular should not have belonged to someone like Callaghan. Someone that had done such horrible things. It was weird, when you took that scene and put it next to the man that was now being held in court.

It had been so nice, back then.

He had just wanted that back, hadn't he?

But wasn't that—?

"Hiro?" He snapped back into attention at the sound of his name. Spoken gently, and softly— a way that was worlds different than how it had been snapped and screamed and yelled, during the past year. He turned, looking over and blinking a few times to try and clear his mind. Nowadays, it felt like he was trying to dig out a wide hole in the sand. Every time he tried to get out a huge scoop of sand, more sand just slipped down into the hole.

The more he tried to shovel out the sand, the more sand slipped back in to bury him.

"What?" he asked, trying to remember what had been happening. They had bene opening presents, hadn't they? He couldn't remember what he had opened so far, if he even had opened anything. His mind had gotten away from him on accident, apparently. How long had he been staring off into space? Aunt Cass was sitting a few inches away from him, and she was currently leaned over to try and take hold of his gaze. Concern was written across every crevice of her features, and Hiro immediately felt a strong blow of guilt. He'd worried her. On accident.

Tadashi was sitting across from the two— he looked worried as well. His forehead was creased a little bit, his eyebrows knitting together in a way that showed he had noticed Hiro's silence as well. He sat a little straighter as Hiro turned and looked at him. Like he always did, he offered his baby brother a small smile to try and lighten up his own expression. "Hey genius," he said, his voice just as worried as Cass' had been. Hiro just blinked, so Tadashi leaned his head to the side. "You don't like it?"

' _Don't…don't like it?'_

Confused, Hiro looked down at his hands, realizing with a jolt that he was holding something. So he _had_ unwrapped something. He stilled, once his eyes turned down to look at it, and the dots slowly started to connect. His expression grew heavy and dark, and his shoulders slowly began to curl forward in something akin to pain. Aunt Cass immediately reached over and put her arm around him. "I'm sorry honey!" She immediately relapsed into apology, just like Hiro did nowadays. "I just saw it and thought you might like it! I guess I wasn't thinking! I-I can take it back, if that's what you want, honey!"

He didn't say anything at first. He just stared down at the thing that was now in his hands, gradually realizing that even with his glasses on, his vision was blurring and smearing. Tears were pricking at his eyes, making them burn and sting. Aunt Cass shifted a little bit closer to him, and he started to realize that he needed to say something— anything. Inside, he was screaming at himself to snap out of it— to make sure that she wasn't scared or concerned.

 _You're ruining this_ whole _thing. Snap out of it!_

"No," he rasped, his voice coming out flat and dull. He dragged the corners of his lips upward, in something that might have once been a smile, but was now rendered just a husk of its former self. "No," he repeated emptily, trying to pass off his expression as best he could. He knew there wasn't much point to it. But oh well. "I love it." He thought of a robot, mechanically moving its arms up and down, and speaking in low beeps and hums. Trying to feel something, but somehow always unable to. "Thank you."

"I can take it back, Hiro," Aunt Cass repeated, a little bit more firmly this time. It was clear that she wasn't about to buy anything that Hiro was trying to slide past her. "You don't have to keep if you don't want to." She glanced down at the thing he was holding, a sense of puzzlement coming over her face as she surveyed the gift. And why _shouldn't_ she be confused? To her, this was the perfect present to give him, after all this.

A camera. It was just something to make sure that memories created were concrete and physical. She had probably seen it and thought that she had struck gold— it would be something to help Hiro along in terms of easing back into the life he had had before. But, to him, it was nothing but a reminder. He thought about how often Abigail had whipped out her own recording device. How she had smiled into the camera, and had often forced others to the same. He was supposed to be the same, now, then? He was supposed to document everything around him? Kiss Aunt Cass on the cheek and chirp: 'Aunt Cass is camera-shy!'?

"I love it," he said, in a tone of voice that gave off anything but. Aunt Cass deflated, looking far more than disappointed. She started to open her mouth and say something more. But Hiro didn't give her the chance. He turned and set the camera down on the ground, his expression drawn now as he listened to the dull thud it made. "Thank you."

Aunt Cass turned and glanced over at Tadashi, obviously asking him for help in this situation. But he was just as confused. He was just as lost, and just as torn-up. He met her look with one of his own. Together, the two were unable to help the other in any way, shape, or form. So Cass looked back and resorted to just replying with a soft: "You're very welcome, honey."

This earned another small nod from Hiro. By this point, he had just turned and let his stare rest down on the camera. Or, rather, _through it_ — he wasn't focusing on the device at all. Listlessly, he offered the two a small shrug of his shoulders, not tearing his stare away from the thing. And in a monotone voice, hardly moving his lips, he mumbled out: "Merry Christmas."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

They were all together on the couch, laying around after finishing off one of Aunt Cass' famous pies. In nearly everyone's opinion in San Fransokyo, it should have been _world_ famous, but for now they were settled with city-wide known. As soon as Hiro had put the first bite into his mouth, he had felt a blow to the gut of familiarity, and he had been so happy, that he had eaten nearly all of it. Aunt Cass had clearly been encouraged— he hadn't eaten much recently, so for him to clean this off was uplifting. And it showed in the bubbly enthusiastic way she had demanded they watch some of their favorite Christmas movies.

Hiro had transitioned from his wheelchair to the couch, just like he had to ground when they had opened presents earlier. Aunt Cass was on one side, and Tadashi took up the other, and for once, quite unlike they usually were when they watched movies or TV, they were all bunched close together. Aunt Cass had her arm carefully around her nephew, and Hiro's head was resting on his older brother's shoulder. It was a movie they had seen tens of times over— Hiro remembered he and Tadashi used to have competitions to see who could say the most quotes from it. But right now, they were just watching it in silence, quietly watching and enjoying the close proximity of each other back in their own home.

'We can't just throw him out in the snow.'

'Why not? He _loves_ the snow! He's told me fifteen times!'

"Did you…?" The other two instantly roused the moment that Hiro spoke up. He blanched for a moment, trying to figure out how to word it. He hadn't even meant to let it slip in the first place— the entire day, the question had been fizzling on the tip of his tongue, and suddenly it was bursting out before he could stop it. The two were looking at him intently, and so he decided that it was too late to backtrack and start over. So he took in a quick breath and looked down at his legs. Absently, he picked at the fabric of his pants, though the distraction was less than satisfactory. "Did you guys do this last year?" he got out finally.

Aunt Cass looked over at Tadashi, who deflated in posture a little bit. It wasn't like Hiro wasn't going to pretend that he spent all of Christmas trying to picture what his family was doing. That was _all_ he had thought about. It had hurt— he hadn't exactly wanted them to be moping around the entire day. But at the same time, the thought of them doing all their normal things like watching movies, and having desserts and telling stories…he hadn't really wanted that to go on with him not there, either.

The entire day he had wondered what they were doing.

Had they done the same for him?

After a few heartbeats, in which Aunt Cass struggled to think of the right thing to say, she started to speak. "O-Of course not," she replied gently. She rubbed his arm up and down, her voice a little bit sadder than it had been before. Again, Hiro experienced that same sting of sorrow that he had brought it up. Somehow, though, he couldn't stop it. He could keep down the questions and the events and the sadness that it brought for some time, but it was like vomit. He couldn't keep it down for long, and when it did force it way back forward, Hiro had a hard time stopping it. Or, in this case, trying to rip his mind out of the past. "We opened presents, of course," Cass went on carefully. "But…but for the rest of the night we were pretty…" She trailed off. She didn't seem to be able to finish.

Tadashi interjected and saved her the trouble. He reached over and ruffled Hiro's hair, being careful not to hurt him in the process. More out of habit than anything else, though. "It wasn't the same without you," he said, his voice getting softer. Hiro glanced over at him and blinked, trying to figure out whether or not he was just trying to make him feel better. But he seemed genuine enough, and Hiro instantly admonished himself for thinking that he was a liar. He smiled instead, this grin much more genuine than any other had been this entire day. Tadashi followed suit and added: "The party doesn't start without you, right?"

Hiro laughed in the back of his throat, turning back front. He watched the movie flicker by for a few small seconds before he said softly: "Good." Hesitating a bit, he rushed to say: "Well…not _good_. But…but good," he finished lamely.

Aunt Cass recovered her smile and leaned over just enough to kiss his cheek. On the inside, she was thanking the heavens that they had managed to say the right thing for once. It was like walking a mine field to try and make sure that they didn't upset Hiro. They had escaped this one unscathed, for once. They turned back to the movie, and listened for a little bit longer.

'So Dad…I planned out or whole day. First, we'll make snow angels for two hours. And then we'll go ice skating, and then we'll eat a whole roll of Tollhouse cookie dough as fast as we can—"

Watching the scene play out, Hiro wilted just a little bit.

Underneath his breath, almost as if he was talking to himself, he announced softly: "I called him Dad last Christmas. For…for the first time, I mean."

Aunt Cass and Tadashi immediately went rigid in shock. Out of all the things to come after that small conversation, this was obviously not something that they were anticipating. Hiro hadn't even meant to say it— it just sort of happened. As soon as the last few syllables burst out of his mouth, he cringed and ducked his head down quickly. In his lap, his hands clenched together tightly, and his eyes flickered down to the arm that had been reduced down to nothing but scar tissue. He could feel both of them turn and look there as well. It was the first thing they always looked at whenever he said something like that.

He grimaced. He offered a small: "Sorry."

Aunt Cass started to say something, but Tadashi beat her to it. "Don't apologize. You don't need to."

Nothing was said for a while. Hiro looked back up at the television, watching with a more dismal gaze as Buddy imitated the sound of the radiator as if it was some kind of demon. He could feel that they were staring at him— it was impossible to ignore. He stifled a small sigh and tucked a little bit tighter to himself. He sat a little stiffer, and he didn't turn back to lay his head on his older brother's shoulder. He just stared straight forward, trying not to remember how happy Callaghan had looked when he had called him 'Dad.'

His eyes had lit up. He had smiled so big. Hiro readjusted his hands so that he could grab hard to his knees. He cringed a little bit in pain at the pressure that was applied, but he ignored it swiftly. It didn't matter at all— not to him, and not right now. He couldn't meet anyone else's stare, despite the fact that he knew they were there. He could feel his heart ramming up against his chest, bruising his ribs and his muscles, and making the blood roar in his ears.

"Hiro," Aunt Cass murmured softly. "I want you to know that—"

She couldn't finish. Before she could get the chance to, her phone started to ring loudly, the shrill noise slicing through her speech. She perked and turned, Hiro glancing over to her just in time to see that she weakened a little bit with anxiety. He watched her lean over to pick her phone up from the coffee table; Hiro tried to look at the number, but he didn't recognize it. It was just a jumble of numbers. But whatever was on the screen seemed to mean quite a lot to Cass.

She snatched her phone close to herself, and before it could even ring for its third time, she declined the call. Hiro looked at her and her stricken expression oddly, not at all sure what she was doing. Tadashi glanced at her, but it didn't take more than a heartbeat for him to duck away again. Hiro looked between him and Aunt Cass, feeling a sense of distress at the fact that neither of them was really prepared to meet his gaze. Silence reigned in the room for a long time— silence saved for the movie, of course. It pressed down on Hiro and made it hard to breathe. So he was almost grateful when Cass broke it, despite the fact that her voice artificially bright.

"I'll get more pie!" she said, turning without a single glance at Hiro and scurrying down to the bakery.

Hiro watched her go. He turned over to Tadashi, his eyebrows pulling together. "What was that about?" His question came out in nothing more than a whisper.

Tadashi grimaced a little bit. He shifted his weight from side to side a little bit. And wearing this sorrowful kind of frown he said a tad uncomfortably: "She said she wanted to tell you herself," he mumbled, his eyes flickering over to him. Awkwardness was thick in between them, and Hiro wilted at the sensation. He bit down on his lower lip and didn't try to press any further. He took the small rejection and just looked away, feeling Tadashi's stare burn into his back. It stung like fire. But a lot of things did, nowadays. He was trying his best to stifle it. Move on. As hard as it was.

So he just sat. Waited for Aunt Cass to come. And tried not to think anymore.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro sucked in a harsh breath that scraped down against his windpipe. He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes down into slits, forcing determination into his eyes to try and stomp down the exhaustion that was hiding there. "Go on, Hiro," the physical therapist encouraged gently. "Just lean out as best you can and try to get the ring." It was only a few feet in front of him, and it was bugging the absolute _crap_ out of him that he couldn't just _reach_ the stupid thing. Frustration was burning under his skin faster than he could try to pat it out, though he struggled to keep a level head on his shoulders.

Aunt Cass was sitting off to the side watching close, and Tadashi was a few yards away. His knees were drawn up a bit to himself, and his eyes were trained steadily on his baby brother. He looked a little pained as he watched him struggle and flounder to grasp at the ring. He had watched his little brother struggle for a lot of things. Struggle to fit in at high school, struggle to build some of the wonderful things he had accomplished, struggled to make himself known as anyone other than the tinier Hamada kid. And he had millions of things in his mind now that he could only _think_ must have been like. Like Hiro struggling to get out of Callaghan's car, or struggling to keep sane in some corner of his basement.

He had seen Hiro struggle before. Now, he could _imagine_ his little brother struggling. But somehow, what hurt the most to think about out of all of that was the fact that currently, right now, Hiro was struggling just to lean over and get something that was a few short feet away. It was almost painful to look at, and he was halfway unable to in the first place. But he knew that looking away would just draw Hiro's attention and make his already-saddened expression grow even more sorrowful. He couldn't bear that, and so he kept himself in check as best he could.

Hiro gave up with a small huff. He leaned backwards and hung his head. His eyes closed tightly; suddenly, he was sick of seeing that stupid circle that felt as though it was miles away. "I can't do it," he whispered, each word hollow enough to hold water. The physical therapist frowned, clearly disappointed at the fact that he had given up so easily. The stare stabbed directly through him, but he tried his best to ignore it. Again. Like he did with everything. _Ignore it, just ignore everything…_ "It's too far away. I can't get it."

The physical therapist smiled kindly, not allowing a frown to stay on his face too long. He grabbed the ring himself, and Hiro watched his effortless lean with undisguised anger. Despite this, the man stood up and took to hovering the ring above his patient instead. Hiro's eyes flashed with disappointment at the realization that he wasn't going to just let him off easily. And at the fact that he was going to have to try and reach this one, as well. He was already _tired_. He didn't want to keep trying. He wanted to go home and just lay down again. Being motionless for a few hours sounded more than amazing.

"Try and reach this one," the therapist encouraged. "I'll bet you can get this one. No biggie at all." It was just far enough away from him that Hiro wouldn't be able to reach it just with his arms. The fact dug underneath his skin, and he sucked in a harsh breath that conveyed nothing but frustration. He turned and looked over at Aunt Cass, noticing that she weakened a little bit underneath his sorrowful glance. She offered him a small, bracing nod, along with a small smile.

It didn't do much to help him at all. And she knew that. She and Tadashi both did.

Hiro looked up at the ring, a grimace slowly coming over his features. "Do I have to?" He could not keep the childish question from slipping through his lips. He said it anyway, in the stupid, stupid hope that somehow the task would be taken away. He was looking for a laugh, and a simple: 'Hah, of course not! Just kidding.'

All in all, he was not surprised when the person just nodded. "Go on, Hiro. You'll be able to do it, I promise. And the more of these kind of stretches you do, the better off your back is going to be! You want to be able to get better, right?" He waited for Hiro to reply, but he didn't offer one. His stare was dead as he just took to staring up at the ring for a moment. Eventually, he realized that there wasn't a way around it. That he was going to have to try even if it was the last thing that he wanted to do. So he sighed, and started to stretch up as best he could.

His arm got all the way out. And then he needed to start sitting up a little straighter— moving his back, and arching it just a little bit. But the smallest twitch hurt _so much_. Predictably, the therapist was continuing to cheer him along. "There you are!" he praised. "You're doing just fine! You're getting better and better!" Hiro felt his throat swell and close in emotion as Callaghan's voice rang in his ears, telling him that he wouldn't get better unless he moved. He thought of how many times he had been egged up to his feet and walk, despite his agony. Suddenly, it seemed like, even though he was home, he wasn't. That he was still back at Callaghan's house, unable to rest or find any sort of peace.

His fingers were just barely grazing the ring. He gnashed his teeth together and struggled to push himself further. He pushed and he pulled himself as best he could, but…but he couldn't. The pain got to be far too much. Hiro flopped down, his expression remorseful and heavy. He looked down at the floor between his legs, trying not to show how much he was really bothered. But he knew on the inside that it was probably no use in thinking that way. "I can't do it," he whimpered, his shoulders drooping forward. The therapist frowned, looking saddened at the second easy defeat. "It hurts too much."

"Let's try again, then!" the therapist replied brightly. From where she sat, Aunt Cass curled forward a little bit in something akin to pain. She watched as Hiro looked up, hollowly watching as the ring was lowered a few more inches. Now, it was close enough so that Hiro could just reach up and get it. She watched with a weighted-down heart as he reached up listlessly to curl his fingers around the hoop. There was no triumph in his eyes whatsoever; it was almost the opposite. He didn't keep his grip on it for very long before his fingers uncurled, and his arm slapped back down to the ground. "You reached it!" the therapist called out, clearly finding it as a huge success.

Hiro blinked. "I guess," he mumbled out. He glanced over at Aunt Cass, and his eyes flashed at her heartbroken stare. He tried to sit up a little straighter, though he wasn't able to hold back a sharp cringe of pain. Cass softened as soon as she met his stare, and she started to open her mouth to coin her own praise. She knew in some part of herself that it wouldn't do much for her nephew. At this point, he was inconsolable. It would take more time. However, it was tumbling out of her anyway. Out of sheer habit, she was doing all she could to try and make him feel any better. Even if nothing changed…at least she had tried all she could.

"Don't worry," she said gently. "You've come a long way since—"

Hiro interrupted her, unable to listen to anymore. He just stared at her blankly. And he tried not to blink. Maybe if he didn't blink, the tears in his eyes would reabsorb through osmosis. "When can we go home?" he asked softly.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It was during dinner when Hiro finally drew the line. They were in the middle of having another one of Hiro's favorite dishes. It was actually a better night than they had had in a while. Hiro only had a few bites left of his meal, in comparison to the way that he usually just pecked at and swirled around his food to try and make it seem like he was eating more than he actually was. They were talking and smiling just like they had every night over dinner before all this mess started. Tadashi was in the middle of telling them about a funny series of texts he had gotten in the group chat between him and his friends. Something about Fred getting lost at Toys R Us and then getting shot at with Nerf guns from some sniper ten-year-old.

Tadashi seemed to never run out of his archive of 'Fred' stories.

But his older brother had been cut off before he could bring the tale to a close. It was that same ringing that had cut Aunt Cass off a few days ago. And when Hiro turned to look curiously over in her direction, he noticed that her face paled again in color, just like it had the first time around. She turned and looked down at her phone, and Hiro felt a sting of discomfort as she just blanched, as if she wasn't sure on what to do.

He grimaced a little bit. "Aunt Cass?" he asked softly. She roused, and hummed softly under her breath to show that she was listening. At the same time, though, she didn't tear her gaze away from the device that was still vibrating against the table. "Is…" Underneath the table, his hands were wringing together tightly in an obvious sign of nervousness. "Is everything okay?"

She blinked rapidly a few times, shaking herself out of her stupor as best as she could. "Y-Yes!" she said, stumbling over herself in the attempt to reply and seem normal. But truly, such an ideology had gone out the window the minute all of the color had drained from her face. She looked as white as a sheet at the moment. Just like she had before, she wasted no time before she declined the call and shoved her phone into her pocket. "It's fine," she said, her voice a tiny mumble.

Hiro watched her with a subdued stare as she turned back to her food. She was making a conscious effort not to look up at her nephew, which he registered easily. He looked over at Tadashi, remembering what he had said before when he'd attempted to ask. Briefly, Hiro studied his plate of food that suddenly didn't seem as appetizing. He tried to convince himself to let it all go and just continue on like nothing had happened. It was what he'd done last time.

But he had drawn the line in the sand. It was right here. He couldn't take it anymore.

"What—" When Aunt Cass looked quickly over in his direction, Hiro almost took it back. He choked a little bit, feeling a tightness in his chest that constricted his lungs. But quickly, he inhaled, and forced himself to continue. Though he only glanced up from the table in a minimal gesture. "Who was that? What was that about?"

She hesitated. There was a clear space of time in which she just stared at him, and that was when he knew for sure that something was completely wrong. His mind, of course, was quick to immediately fray apart and become scatterbrained with the worst case scenarios. Was it something to do with Callaghan? Was he released or something? Hiro hadn't been keeping up with the story— he hadn't even thought about it! But what if something had happened!? What if he was being let out? Doubt and worry was spreading over his face like a raincloud, and Aunt Cass registered it immediately. She sat up a little bit straighter, guilt surging forward to flood her entire being. "Don't worry!" she cried out, Hiro hunching a little bit away. "It's just…it's just complicated, honey, and I wanted to wait to try and figure out how to…"

Tadashi looked at Hiro, his stare riddled with tension. He wasn't touching his food anymore either.

The two shared a nervous look. Again, Hiro felt a sense of divide, or separation. Like he was a million miles away, and every word he heard was nothing but an empty echo. Eventually, after what felt like a few lifetimes at the very least, in which Hiro could only guess as to what they were meaning with their shared look, Cass turned over back to him. Her eyes were rawer than they were before, and Hiro could hear the reluctance in her voice. It was in every single letter of every single word that clashed against his eardrums. And, bitter regret coming off of her in waves, she managed a soft: "I have…to ask you something."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro woke up in a cold sweat, with his breathing coming across as hectic and uncontrolled. It rasped loudly down his throat and rattled his lungs, and it was the only sound in the room, really. There was a sense of surprise that came with the shock of being awake, though. It wasn't like all the other times he had jerked his eyes open in the middle of the night— that was his new normal, by this point. But what _was_ different was the fact that he had just woken up all by himself. He hadn't needed someone to shake his shoulder roughly, or yell out his name like normal.

Laying there, staring blankly into the night, he had to stop and wonder whether or not that was an actual accomplishment. He guessed that it was as close as he was going to get, right now. The thought left a little bit of a bitter taste in his mouth, but he tried to move past it as best as he could. He also tried to tell himself that he should really just turn around and go to back to bed, before his mind could take control of him and not let him go. Before his imagination and nightmares could run even wilder than they already had, and take him somewhere he could not get out of.

Laying there on the couch cushions, because he was still in no state to go up and down the steps every day and he didn't want to be a burden on Tadashi, Hiro tried to steady himself. By himself. Without help, because he just felt like the most helpless person in the world whenever he was given some. But as he reached up to rub his eyes, he could see them shaking, even in the dark. And when he tried to focus on something else, like Tadashi's story about Fred getting shot by a ten-year-old, all he could recall was the barrel of a gun pointing at him, and harsh, biting words.

Yes— he remembered now. Though he had tried to forget. That was right before he had made the split decision to turn and bury the knife down into his arm. That was right before he had gotten so desperate for a way home, that he had resorted to tearing open his own flesh. And that was before that searing hot pain had sealed up his wound inch by crucial inch, and that was before he was branded as someone inherently _else_ than he had been before he had uttered the words: "Fine. Okay. Take me."

He bit down on his lower lip and squeezed his eyes shut as tight as they could go. He tried counting to ten slowly, in order to calm his heart, which was beginning to race. One… _he'd had one dog, and he had no idea where she was now_ …two… _he had tried to call out for Tadashi twice when he had first realized what was happening…_ three… _when Abigail was three, she had ran all the way around the backyard just to build the bottom base of her snowman_ ….four… _he and Callaghan had played Monopoly four times, and Hiro always seemed to win somehow_ …five… _after the fifth month, he had started to think that they had given up on searching for him, and he had felt guilty for the thought for the_ next _four weeks_...six—

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. The silence was growing to be absolutely deafening, and his head began to split and ache in pain. He turned and looked down at the floor, where Aunt Cass and Tadashi were sprawled out. They were still sleeping, completely unaware. He felt that distance suddenly, and there was a strong urge to do anything he could to somehow decrease it. He turned and looked down at his leg; he was already grimacing, from what he was sure would hurt. But the fear of pain was far less severe than the desire he had to get up and move.

He turned and started to push himself off of the couch, and towards the floor. Instantly, he felt a searing pain wrap around his back and squeeze, nearly taking his breath away. He gritted his teeth down against it and turned, pulling himself off of the cushions and reaching down with his other arm to brace himself against the floor. He tried to ease himself down as best he could, but he ended up hitting it with a thud regardless. He flinched down for a little bit, biting down on his lower lip and concentrating on breathing through his agony.

He knew in the back of his mind that he was specifically told not to do this very thing. That he had that wheelchair in the first place just for special uses, and he was supposed to stay on the couch. The thought of having someone getting cross with him was unusually enough to clench his stomach. Despite this, he looked over at Aunt Cass, who was just a few inches away from him now. Closing his eyes tight and keeping his lips pressed tightly together, Hiro turned and forced himself to move. He dragged himself accordingly, hissing and whimpering every so often before he could shift enough to lay down right by her.

He fell on the ground with a ragged sigh, already more than exerted, for just moving to the side a bit. By now, Aunt Cass' forehead was creasing. By the time he was just starting to get his breathing back under control, her eyes flickered open. There was a moment or two in which she was too tired and confused to register much. But slowly her eyes flooded back with intelligence, and she perked just a little bit, tilting her head to the side. "Hiro!?" she gasped, sitting up a little bit so she could see him better. "Honey, did you fall off of the couch!?" she asked.

He shook his head. He looked down a little bit, and his voice came out soft. "I wanted to be down here."

She frowned a little bit, but lowered herself back down onto her pillow. She made a small face and reached over to brush his bangs out of his eyes. Her fingers always used to thread through his hair for just the perfect amount of time. Now, with his hair as short as it was, it was the exact opposite. She was almost caught off-guard by how quick she was finished. Her face fell, and she just moved to repeat it, trying her best to soothe him. "You should be asleep, baby," she whispered gently.

He pulled a little bit closer, seeking that same physical reassurance he had gotten from Callaghan. It felt like just yesterday. _Was_ it? "I can't," he mumbled. "I think too much."

She seemed concerned. Understandably so. "You didn't take you medicine, did you?" she prompted.

"I forgot," he offered lamely.

"Here, let me go get it for you," she offered, moving as if to get up and go for the kitchen. She kept it there in the cabinet under the sink.

But Hiro stopped her at once, reaching out to hold tight to her. She blinked, looking alarmed a bit at his tug backwards. "What's wrong?" she asked. She turned and glanced over her shoulder, to where Tadashi was still sleeping soundly. "Look, let me go get your pills, and then you might be able to—"

"I just want to lay here," he whispered out, Aunt Cass stopping short a little bit at the mumble. "I don't want to go to sleep."

Her look melted into one of sorrow. Twisting back and laying down where she had been before, she started to run her fingers gently through his hair once more. "You've got to sleep at some point, honey," she whispered, raising her eyebrows a little bit. He didn't reply, turning and putting his head down against her shoulder. Cass sighed a little bit in the back of her throat, and she resigned herself to giving in. She just carded her fingers through her little nephew's hair, letting him pull close to her and stay there. She stayed motionless, staring blankly into the dark and trying not to think too much.

After a few long minutes of silence, she said: "You don't _have_ to do it, you know."

He didn't reply, but it was clear he knew what she meant.

Cass ducked down and planted a kiss in the center of his forehead, letting her lips linger on his skin for a bit longer than usual. When she pulled away, her eyes were soft, and there was a smile on her face. "You're so brave," she murmured. Hiro peeked up at her. He was silent. But her smile was unfaltering. "And I'm so proud of you."

He grimaced. "I don't feel very brave," he confessed in a hiss. "I'm scared." He ducked his head down again, his forehead against her shoulder. His next words came out in nothing more than a small sigh. "All the time."

Her heart tugged and pulled, and Aunt Cass had to make a conscious effort to keep the smile on her face. Though she felt it grow watery and weak. She just sighed, wrapping her arms around Hiro and tucking into him. "I know," she sighed, feeling her chest yawn with hollowness. "I know…"

Hiro was silent for some time. The two just stayed in the dark, one wishing desperately for comfort, and the other trying just as hard to offer it. Hiro kept his head lowered and listened as his heartbeat started to slow down. He closed his eyes and let out a breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding. And, breaking this silence, he said the first real, comforting thing since this whole escapade had started. "You make me feel safe, though."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He turned and looked nervously over to the side, a frown already weighing down his features. "What's that for?" he asked, his voice hardly above a mumble. Underneath the table, he gripped his knees tightly, basically digging his nails down into the skin there. The camera standing a few inches away, pointed over to him solely, seemed cold and daunting. It was like someone that wouldn't stop staring at him. But mostly, the reason it bothered him so much was because it drug up memories of Abigail running through a garden, videotaping her dog, who was always a few steps ahead of her. Or of Callaghan aiming a lens over at Hiro and urging him to "Smile!"

"Is it alright to be there?" the woman asked from across the kitchen table. Hiro blinked and looked over at her cautiously. Officer Hadley…right? That had been her name. There was someone else too— a woman that Hiro didn't know. He thought that she had introduced herself as Rebecca, but he couldn't be sure. Inwardly, he made a note not to try it, just in case he was wrong. But for the moment, it wasn't such a huge concern for him. What _was_ a huge concern, was the fact that a camera was currently staring him down, and he had a lump in his throat the size of a boulder.

He wanted to say no, and he wanted to ask whether or not it would be possible for her to take it away. Maybe then some of the pressure would be off, and he would be able to breathe a little bit more. But he backed out of asking such a thing and just resigned himself to a subtle nod. Officer Hadley smiled a little bit at the admission, and she turned and nodded at who Hiro was under the impression was named Rebecca. "Then we can start whenever you're ready. We just need to ask you a few questions. We can take this recording and show it to the Jury, and there will be no possible way that Callaghan is to get off easily in terms of his sentence."

She failed to notice how Hiro stiffened like a board at the simple name. But Aunt Cass was not as oblivious. She and Tadashi were each sitting at Hiro's side, just as loyal as they've always been throughout this mess. His aunt was holding tight to his hand, refusing to budge or let go in the slightest. His older brother was looking over the two that were in front of him with sharp suspicion. He looked thoroughly unimpressed with them so far, and therefore he was watching their every move closely.

Rebecca – he was just going to give up on doubting it for the time being, seeing as it wasn't important – looked over at Hiro and smiled kindly. "Hello, Hiro," she greeted, her voice already warm, as if they were old-time friends. When in actuality, Hiro wasn't even sure why she was here. "I hope you don't mind us coming down here and asking a few questions," she said. "Is that okay? If we talk a little bit about what happened to you?"

He turned and glanced nervously at the camera, and then at Aunt Cass. She offered him a tiny smile that didn't exactly reach her eyes. It wasn't all that reassuring. Regardless, he took in a deep breath and forced his head back around. "Yes," he said, his voice a little bit shorter than it normally was. Quieter, too. Shy, and frightened. He didn't always sound like this, did he? He'd forgotten. "Sure."

Rebecca smiled in relief. Then she gave a small nod. "How about you just talk a little bit?" she invited, trying very hard to make her voice as inviting as possible. But no matter how much she tried, the upbeat tone just bounced artificially off from his ears. He just stared at her a little apprehensively, so she went on to try and make herself clearer. Apparently she thought _that_ was the issue with the request. "Just…about some things you experienced. How you dealt with it— how it made you feel. _Your_ side of it all. That's what we're here to get."

When he still seemed anxious, Hadley tried to help. "There's no wrong thing to say, Hiro."

He blinked, looking down at the table, as if he was searching for some kind of answer. His eyebrows pulled together in thought and confusion as to what he should say. There wasn't anything wrong to say, no. But that just left way too _much_ to talk about. "I don't know," he mumbled, frowning. How was he supposed to shrink those long six months into something that could be talked about on tape, as if it was some sort of casual conversation? "I…I didn't really…" He didn't know what to say in terms of emotion, or feeling. But he did know facts. _'You're a smart kid, aren't you Hiro?'_ "He hit me with his car. In the road," he rasped, still refusing to look up. "I tried to tell him I was fine. But he told me he would take me to the hospital. So I said yes."

Aunt Cass and Tadashi's full attention was on him now. They weren't even blinking, hardly.

When Hiro breathed in, he was more than aware of the fact that the air shook all the way down his windpipe. "I got in his car, and he gave me medicine that he told me was for pain. But…I went unconscious after that. And when I woke up, I was tied up to a bedpost. He told me…" He frowned and blanched. He had to stop and collect himself— to piece together the puzzle that, up until now, he had been struggling to mix up and scramble until it was unrecognizable. He held a little bit tight to Cass' hand, and she returned the squeeze just as quickly. Unimpressively, Hiro shrugged one shoulder. "He told me I wasn't going anywhere," he finished.

Rebecca surveyed him closely. Though he did catch her glance over to the camera as well. The fact caused him to deflate just a little bit. "What did he tell you?" She seemed to rethink her question, because she backtracked and said instead: " _How_ did he tell you?"

He was back to the table. He was studying each and every scratch and scuff that was on its surface. Like he hadn't spent his entire childhood looking at it and memorizing everything. "He um…" He sighed through his nose, closing his eyes briefly before forcing them back open. He had tried to tell himself that he would be strong and keep steady, no matter what happened. But it wasn't even five minutes, and so far he was already slipping. Desperately, he tried to dig his heels into the ground and keep stubborn. "He told me that I was going to be the replacement for his daughter. I tried— I tried to fight back, or at least talk some sense into him…but…he would hit me whenever I tried."

Rebecca nodded slowly. "Was that what happened?" she asked. "Whenever you didn't do what he wanted you to?"

Hiro hesitated. He didn't _always_ get hit. Should he elaborate? He kept his lips closed tightly. Somehow, he felt as if he had already said too much. Was that a thing? Was there a line he couldn't cross? Or was that line erased the second he had gotten into the car? He ended up just nodding, finding that it was close enough. Good enough. He just held tight to his aunt's hand and didn't try to get away from himself.

Hadley frowned. Her eyes flickered down to Hiro's arm, and the scar that was there. "Did he put that on your arm?" she asked, her voice sounding much different than it normally was. It was gentler and almost sweeter. It was how everyone's voice was when they spoke to him, nowadays. Their look, and their voice— it was all changed and altered. Nothing was the same when it came to him and how he looked in other peoples' eyes. In the back of his mind, he asked himself how it would be once this film was shown in court. Would it be on the news? Would _everyone_ in San Fransokyo look at him differently?

He was so busy dwelling on it, that he was silent for some stretch of time. When he roused and looked up, he realized the mistake he had made and felt a rush of self-consciousness. He glanced down at the old injury, and his stomach immediately began to twist and knot. There wasn't much he remembered— all of it was all muddled and fuzzy. Warped beyond repair, just like his skin was. In the back of his throat, he gave a small cough, wincing a little bit. "No, he didn't…" He had to stop and collect himself, trying to concentrate on his reply. Not on the heavy stench of blood that seemed to stick with him for days on end. The awful taste in his mouth, the burning need for water or food or _anything_ at all. That was most of what he remembered. It was fuzzy on when his intelligence exactly came back to him. "No, I…I did that," he said lowly.

Aunt Cass's eyes flew wide in shock, and Tadashi chose this moment to turn and look away.

Rebecca glanced over at the camera, but she turned to Hiro earnestly a second later. A sympathetic look was quick to come over her face, lighting up her every feature in a sense of sorrow at the situation that was suddenly handed to her. Meeting her stare, Hiro felt that same kind of feeling— as if he was behind some glass for people to just stare at. He was just someone to look at so that you could feel better about yourself and what you did. "You did that?" She made it sound like it was a question, but there was already a sound of understanding underneath her primary tone.

It was good thing that he was holding on to Aunt Cass, because it helped him to refrain from turning and running his hand along the injury. He just sufficed another nod of the head. "Yeah." His voice was getting more and more clipped the more he talked. The further along the story got, the more he wished that he could just get it over with and go lay down again. He was getting stiffer the longer he sat in this chair.

Rebecca leaned forward a little bit. It was hardly noticeable to anyone else, but Hiro was acutely aware of every small, tiny gesture. "Can you tell us why?" she prompted. "Were you…were you fighting and you got hurt?" She titled her head to the side. Again, there was just a tiny movement that went much too far. "Or…maybe it was because of something else?" Her words fell flat a little bit when she asked this. That understanding was back, and it was stronger this time. Aunt Cass was able to pick up on it now. She started to sit a little straighter at Hiro's side.

Hiro's forehead creased. "I…well, I thought…he'd have no choice but to take me to a hospital," he explained, talking about a mile an hour by now. Each word was chosen with care, even though he didn't really think anything would be good enough. "If I got…if I got hurt enough I would be able to— to get to a hospital and then from there…" He grimaced and let himself trail off. He wasn't even sure what he had thought he was going to do _if_ he woke up in the hospital. It would probably have been self-explanatory back then, but saying it aloud made him feel completely stupid. Why had he been so willing to do something so stupid, on a mere _hope_?

He quickly tore his gaze away and pointed it back down, this time to his lap. His eyes were starting to sting, and as his throat started to burn more and more, his need to stop this whole thing was just growing. He opened his mouth, as if to try and voice his discomfort. But it died on him before he could spit it out. Rebecca took the discomfort for something else, though. She frowned and clasped her hands together in front of her. "What did you use to do it?" she asked. He didn't reply for a long time, and so she volunteered: "It was a knife, wasn't it? The first time you had a chance at an actual weapon?"

Did she already know this story? If she already knew, why in the world was she making him say it all over again!? He shifted a little and gave another small nod. One that barely moved his head in the first place. Rebecca nodded. "So the first time you got a knife, you used it on yourself. But…why not him? He was there, wasn't he?"

Hiro stopped short a little bit. His mouth hung a little open, and against himself, his mind was sinking further and further back into that day. He remembered how he had stood there, shaking from head to toe as he levelled the blade over in the direction of Callaghan. The thought had occurred to him— he had considered lashing out as hard as he possibly could. It was all in the effort to get away. But then he remembered the fear that was involved with just the thought of attack— of _harming_ another person. And he was stuttering before he was even aware of it. "I-I couldn't—" he struggled. "I couldn't hurt him. I-I couldn't hurt anyone like that!"

Rebecca's frown was unchanging. "Except yourself?"

Hiro was caught off-guard. Aunt Cass was growing stiffer and stiffer by now. She was like him, in that way. He scrambled for something to say, though his nerves felt like they were just unwinding in every inch of his body. "Well, I didn't really— that wasn't— it wasn't ever…"

The next question hit him like a ton of bricks. "Did you try to kill yourself? While you were there?"

He was silent. He stared at her with an expression of complete shock and confusion. With his mouth halfway open, he tried desperately to grope for something to say. "I…" He could feel Aunt Cass looking at him, and Tadashi as well. He could feel their eyes like daggers in his skin, stabbing him through until he felt that same kind of agony he had that day. "It…" He searched the table again, for that answer that always escaped as soon as his fingertips grazed it. "I mean, I…maybe I…just when…" Whenever he tried to crack some kind of reply that might be the smallest bit appropriate, it died before he could get it all out. Sitting there stupidly, he felt like he was going to be sick.

She asked another question. "Did you ever try to escape?" she prompted next. "To run away? Or fight back?" When he just nodded numbly once, she leaned forward even more. "How many times?"

The reply was just a rasp. He wasn't really paying attention. "Three."

Rebecca seemed thoughtful. "Three? In the twelve months you were there?"

He didn't reply. By now, his breathing was beginning to hitch and choke.

Rebecca said something, but it was too distant to hear. He was just thinking about all the times that he had stayed up at night, wide awake, for fear of falling asleep just to wake up to something horrible. It was those times that were the worst— aside from when Robert was yelling at him, or hurting him. That was when he would feel the strongest sense of homesickness, and he would just wish for everything to be over. Even if it meant dying for it. He would always feel so lonely. So isolated. Like he couldn't do anything to get himself out of the place that he was in.

Sitting there and dwelling back on it, Hiro began to realize that what he had felt in the dark of Callaghan's house was exactly the same as what he felt _now_.

"Do you want to talk about something else, Hiro?" Hadley asked, her tone sorrowful. Rebecca turned and looked over at her a bit sharply, as if she was trying to stop her. But she didn't even notice; or if she did, she didn't show it. She saw that Hiro was growing more and more upset. His eyes were glazing over with tears, and they were unnaturally shiny against the light of the kitchen. She knew that seeing him like this would make things go over much better in court, but there was something gut-wrenching about just sitting here watching him break down more and more. Especially when she could remember all too well when he was first found, and how shocking and awful a situation that had been. So she ignored Rebecca's quick glance and just smiled encouragingly his way. "How about…well, why don't you tell us some things about Abigail?" He twitched at the name. "Some things that he made you do? How that impacted you?"

He didn't utter a syllable for a long time. He stared straight ahead. Slowly, his sorrowful and twisted expression phased back into one that was wiped of all emotion. He adjusted himself into apathy and blankness. Hadley frowned a bit, but listened anyway as he started to mumble in a small monotone. "I…uh…I wore some of her shirts— the ones that fit me," he rasped. "I played her games. I was in her room. And I was…I was told stuff about her. That I would have to follow."

He hoped that it would end there, but they were staring at him intently still, so he continued just as gradually after a short sigh. "She…she liked scary movies. She liked purple. And blue. Her favorite animal was dogs. When she was little, she was scared of clowns." With his free arm, he reached up to rub at his eyes, trying to be subtle but knowing there was no point. "She loved pasta. Ummm…my room was upstairs and to the left. When I was twelve, he took me to a carnival, and I sprained my ankle. My best friend's name was Hikaru; he took me to a dance my senior year. I liked to record things— I got a camera for my birthday. I got an award for me and my friend Emily's project in the science fair when I was in high school. When I was—"

He broke off, stopping right in his tracks as his eyes grew to be about seventeen times bigger than they normally were. If he was stiff before, it was nothing compared to what he was now. He froze into a statue, staring ahead with absolute horror. It had slipped. He hadn't meant to suddenly change pronouns— of course he hadn't. His tongue and his lips seemed to have a mind of his own, and he hadn't even been aware of the mistake until it was far too late to take his words back.

He didn't try to fix himself. He didn't even comment on his blunder. It was too obvious of one; he didn't need to. He just slowly closed his mouth and fell completely silent. His stared straight ahead, not budging even to blink. Aunt Cass was crying by now. She was looking at her nephew as if she had never seen him before. Tadashi hunched over and pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. There was a deep grimace over his face, and his shoulders curled forward in a defensive motion. Hiro didn't react to either, though. He just stared straight forward, absolutely silent. Deafeningly so.

Rebecca leaned forward again. This time, Hiro didn't even blink. "Hiro? Are you alright?"

Nothing.

Her voice came in a small mutter now. "Do you still associate yourself with her? Even now?"

He didn't say anything in reply.

He was afraid of the answer.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A holiday was the perfect distraction. New Year's was one of the big ones of the year— probably because it was the last. If they could just have a good night, and if they could just promise a better year after this one, maybe it would help them along. If only just give them a little nudge. Because they needed one at this point, and they would take anything that they could get. That was why Tadashi was up at seven in the morning, decorating before tonight would start, and 2015 would officially be over and changed to 2016. This whole holiday was based on the fact that whatever was to come would be worlds better. So that was what was going to happen.

Aunt Cass was downstairs already. The two had gotten up early but had made the pact to slip out of the living room silently so that Hiro wouldn't wake up. The Lucky Cat Café was going to reopen January first, and news was spreading like wildfire. Which was good, because they had been closed long enough. But it was also another source of stress, which was what Cass had pledged to deal with that morning.

Tadashi's job, on the other hand, was decorating. He had dashed upstairs to hurriedly get dressed. From there, he was going to go to the store and get as much stuff as he could to hang from the ceiling, or wrap around the stairway, or tape onto the walls— you name it, and he was certain that he was going to get it. He took the steps as quietly as possible, and he was about to round over to the kitchen to snatch his keys. But before he could, he stopped short, his eyes falling on the couch and realizing it was empty. The blankets were tossed aside, and Hiro's wheelchair was gone.

Tadashi felt a certain tightness in his chest, and he turned quickly, his heart starting to already pick up in rhythm. "Hiro?" he called out, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Hiro, where—!?" He turned a 180, and there he was. His little brother had rolled himself to the window by the staircase. He was so quiet, that Tadashi hadn't even noticed him. Somehow, in the time that Tadashi had gone upstairs to get dressed in street clothes, Hiro had maneuvered his wheelchair across the room. Which was rather impressive, given that he was still having issues with it, last time he checked.

He let out a sigh of relief and slouched a little bit. Though as he walked over towards the window, he could still feel a jolting sense of anxiety. "Hey, Knucklehead," he said, trying to play off the shout from earlier with a small chuckle. Hiro didn't reply, or even turn around. He had pulled the curtains aside, and he was currently looking out to the street below, which was, of course, already busy and bustling. He had his scarred arm raised, and his hand was pressed up against the glass. Tadashi frowned and stuck his hands into his pockets, trying out nonchalance. "Whatcha doin' buddy?" he asked, hating how gentle his voice was all the time around him now. But it wasn't something he could fix. "You know you're not supposed to be up, right? You might hurt your back again…"

Hiro still didn't reply. No— he wasn't even listening. Not even close. As Tadashi decreased the distance in between him, he realized that, underneath his breath, Hiro was humming. He was distracted; Tadashi wasn't even sure whether or not he had heard what he said at all. He tried to listen close and see what he was mumbling to himself, but the notes didn't make any sense. Not to him, at least. But leaning over and looking at his brother closely, the little tune seemed to pose some sort of significance to him. Tadashi tried to use as much caution as he possibly could. He didn't want to scare Hiro like he usually did whenever he came up too suddenly.

"Hiro?" he asked, making sure that his voice was much louder this time.

And it seemed to be enough to catch his attention. Hiro blinked a few times, and some of the fogginess cleared from his gaze. He turned and glanced back at Tadashi. And proceeded to offer his brother the single most pitiful attempt at a smile that Tadashi had ever seen. "I didn't see you come down," Hiro drawled. He reached up to rub at his eyes, shifting his glasses over in the process. Tadashi opened his mouth to ask something, but Hiro was already turning back. His eyes went back to train on the sidewalks and roads again.

Tadashi took another small step forward. "What're you doing?" he repeated.

Hiro blinked slowly. Then he mumbled a soft: "Thinking."

"About what?"

Hiro didn't answer.

Tadashi reached back and rubbed his neck, feeling concern and awkwardness begin to weave a web of severe discomfort. He tried to keep up his grin, though it was significantly more difficult. He cleared his throat in a loud cough and jerked a little straighter. "Hey, I have an idea!" he announced happily. "How about we go down to the store together, huh!? You must feel all cramped up here, right? We can go out and buy some decorations for New Year's tonight! Doesn't that sound fun? You'll get to breathe a little of the city back in. And…I don't know, maybe we can stop for ice cream on the way back. At your favorite spot! It's still there and…and everything!" He ended a little lamely, but the sentiment was still there. The thought was appealing, wasn't it? Nothing was going to feel normal again if they didn't _do_ any normal stuff.

Hiro shrugged. He didn't seem interested in the slightest.

Tadashi deflated. He looked at his brother closely. "Hiro, are you alright?" he dared to ask. Ever since the interview had crashed and burned last night, he hadn't said much at all. He was nearly mute. It was starting to rub him the wrong way. "Do you want to talk about anything, Hiro?" he prompted. He threw a glance towards the stairs, and he wondered whether or not he should tell Aunt Cass about his odd behavior. But he figured he might as well try his hand at fixing it before that. "Hiro, I know that you're upset. I understand completely. I just…" He trailed off for a moment and took his time in picking the words that would suffice. "You can talk to me. About anything. Okay?"

Absolutely nothing.

He closed his eyes, feeling the familiar burn of frustration. When he went on, his voice was significantly more emotional. "Look, you're my brother. I don't care about anything else. I don't care about what you might think— I could never see you as anything less." Hiro was completely still, and he didn't turn his head. Tadashi wasn't sure if he was listening or not. He could only hope he was. "You'll always be my baby brother, no matter what. No matter what happened then, or what _will_ happen. You can tell me anything. I just want to _help_ you. That's all I want. All I want is to make sure you're happy again." His voice broke a little, then. He tried to cough to make sure that it wouldn't happen again. But he still sounded tearful when he finished with a soft: " _Please_ talk to me. Say _something_."

Hiro blinked then. One slow, long gesture. His hand was still up against the window. The glass around his palm was fogging up around each finger. His forehead creased gradually, and when he spoke, his voice was a small whisper. It wasn't related in the slightest to anything that Tadashi had said. He might as well not have spoken at all. Because Hiro was just as sidetracked, and he was just as pensive. And in that small voice, he asked a question that sent chills straight down Tadashi's spine. Not just because of the words that clashed against his ears, but of the tone of voice that Hiro used in asking.

He sounded saddened. Wistful, even.

And so the question that came across made Tadashi want to turn around and get violently ill.

"What do you think he's doing right now?"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He turned it on when nobody was looking. He didn't know why, exactly. He was alone in the living room— Tadashi had gone upstairs to answer a phone call from one of his friends, and Aunt Cass was downstairs running the shop as well as she could by herself. Being completely alone, with the remote at his disposal, Hiro had felt compelled to find the news station and press the small 'select' button. He didn't know why he did such a thing. Why he felt the desire to. He knew for a fact that if Tadashi or Aunt Cass caught him in the act, they would immediately spark with concern. But even though the fact was well-known, Hiro switched the television channel over to the six o' clock news station.

Predictably, there was a person sitting at some grand desk, their expression grave as they stared into the camera. He was in the middle of his sentence, and Hiro had to catch on to the topic at hand as quickly as he could. "…was something that was truly heart wrenching to everyone present in the courtroom." Hiro bit down on his lower lip as the scene shifted, and the TV was lit up with his own face. That tape— they must have shown his tape. His stomach twisted, and Hiro felt a little nauseas as the image played.

The first thing he registered was the fact that he looked absolutely pathetic on screen. He looked small and tiny— was he really that insignificant? His face was twisted over with sorrow as well, and Hiro felt a dark sense of irritation at the fact that he kept reaching up to wipe at his eyes. All of this coupled with the wheelchair that he was in, and the fact that he was so obviously keeping close to Tadashi and Aunt Cass, he truly looked the part of some pitiful victim.

He was so caught off-guard with this image of him, that he didn't even notice when the newsperson continued. "…not a dry eye in the audience of those listening, as Hiro Hamada recounted some of the horrible things that had occurred to him during his captivity." Hiro sat up a little straighter, despite the pain that ensued because of it. His eyes widened, and a sense of shock settled over his features, the only thing so far to be able to clear away the numbness there. Because from there, a picture of Callaghan came on the screen.

He didn't look anything like what Hiro remembered. In that photo stand-still, he looked beaten-down and resigned. He had a little bit of shadow on his face, and he seemed a little thinner. His eyes were colder, and not the slightest bit lit up, like they had gotten to be whenever he used to look at Hiro. There was a frown on his face, and the look that he wore was of someone who was close to giving up entirely. The newsperson was saying something— probably something that was a little bit important. But it was all white noise to Hiro. It went through one ear and straight out the other.

He just stared at Callaghan in shock, trying to link him with the man that had smiled when Hiro opened his gift on Christmas, or who had come downstairs just to hold him whenever he got upset. _'Don't.'_ Hiro leaned backwards a little bit, feeling a sudden tearing in his chest at the ideas that were cramming into his mind. He was so different. They were both so different. _'Stop it.'_ He thought back to when he and Callaghan had played the piano together, and Hiro had even put himself forward enough to sing. _'Please, don't do this.'_ But he had no choice. Some part of him he guessed knew that he needed to stop before something irreversible could happen.

But he couldn't get himself to stop. Because looking at that picture of Callaghan, all he could think of was the times where he was nothing but loving. He remembered all the times that he had hugged him, and all the times he had given him lofty praise for being exactly like Abigail, and therefore completely perfect. He remembered one of the mantras that was always rammed into his head, said over and over again by Robert. That Hiro hadn't been _anything_ before that night he had gotten hit by Robert's car. Maybe that was true. Maybe that was true, and the only way he had been whole was back then with him.

Because certainly, now, he felt like nothing but a hollow shell.

Tadashi came back down a little bit later, pocketing his phone with a fond look after just hanging up. He turned and started back to the television. Just as foreseen, as he looked from the television, to Hiro, there was a strong sense of shock and confusion that scrawled over his face. He started to say something quickly, rushing forward and reaching for the remote to turn off the station. But the damage had already been done. Because Hiro didn't even blink at his older brother's shouts of alarm. He just stared straight ahead, his face completely expressionless and slowly marring over with tears as his eyes trained on the photo of Callaghan.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Dinner!" Aunt Cass called out, her voice bright and peppy. She'd just finished off Hiro's favorite— after all her work, she was sure he would eat the entire plate, and then some. With each passing day he had grown more and more despondent; it was like pulling teeth to get him to eat. So she had gone the extra mile tonight and made sure that her food was so good, that it couldn't possibly be pushed away. But after her call, only Tadashi came into the kitchen. Hiro wasn't with him or trailing behind, and when she shot him a quizzical look, her older nephew just looked at her despairingly.

She glanced down at the plate on the dining table and took in a slow breath to steady herself. Then, she turned and started into the living room. Hiro was laying on the couch, on his side so that his back was to her. He had a blanket on, cold, despite the fact that the room wasn't frigid at all. Aunt Cass waited with a nervous look for him to turn and look at her, but he didn't rouse. "Hiro?" she called out softly, leaning over and touching his shoulder cautiously. If he was sleeping, she didn't want to wake him too harshly— with his track record of nightmares, she didn't want to make him even worse. "Hiro, it's dinner," she went on gently. "Time to get up."

He wasn't asleep. He shrugged a little bit to the side, so that her hand slipped off.

Her forehead creased, and she tilted her head to the side. "Hiro? You've got to get up, honey. You've got to eat. I let you skip breakfast and lunch, but I'm putting my foot down, alright?" Despite the fact that her words were intended to be sharp, her tone was anything but. She waited for her nephew to respond. He didn't. She breathed out a small sigh and turned back to glance at Tadashi. He looked just as confused and lost. In a few days, school would start back up again, and they both knew that Aunt Cass would then be left alone to handle things while he was gone. He had promised that he would come home as fast as he could to help, especially after Hiro began to go into this downward spiral. But it was still clear to both of them that such a thing wouldn't make a difference.

So Aunt Cass straightened and turned back to Hiro. "Hiro, c'mon. I'll help you over."

Then came a reply. But it was so soft and quiet that she wasn't sure it really was one. "I don't want to eat."

"I know you don't, but you don't have a choice," Aunt Cass replied, trying her best to make herself sound authoritative. Really, she was just trying to make sure that her voice didn't catch or hitch when she spoke. She leaned down and started to pull gently on his arm, to help him sit up and then get into his wheelchair. "Come on, Hiro. You'll never get any better if you just lay around feeling—"

"I'm sick! I don't feel good! I just want to lay down!" Hiro snapped, his voice suddenly sharp. He took his arm away from her, grimacing as he turned and went hurriedly back down. He tugged his blanket tightly around him. Cass watched the motion sorrowfully, her eyes heavy. She looked at him hide away with her saddened expression. He was like a caterpillar trying desperately to be something else— to change into something that, right now, seemed far-fetched and unbelievable. But as long as it was anything but what it already was.

She leaned over and felt his forehead. He didn't feel all that warm. "Hiro, please eat," she said, in nothing but a weary sigh. "You've got to eat. You won't get any better if you don't." She paused for a long moment, waiting for something. But all she got was nothing. So, tiredly, she pressed out a small: "Please?"

Hiro ducked his head down. She realized that he was crying, by this point. His voice came out thick and warped. "I don't want to. I don't want to eat. I don't want to do anything. I just want to stay here."

"You can't." She made her voice harsher now. She tried to imagine that she was getting onto him about something trivial, like whenever he hogged a toy when he was little. Not that she was yelling at him for refusing to eat, and just wanting to waste away. Otherwise, she wouldn't be able to get a single syllable out. "You have to eat, and that's what's going to happen. Do you understand?" She wasn't good at this. She was horrible at being 'the mean one' or the voice of reason. She much rather preferred just being her nephews' friend and mother. She knew that it was an idea that people looked down on, and now she was starting to realize why. She was just so _bad_ at it now. "Get up. It's not a choice anymore."

He just repeated himself in a pitiful whimper. "I don't want to eat."

She closed her eyes, briefly letting her expression crumble. She allowed herself just one sense of helplessness and powerlessness. But she quickly snapped them open soon and straightened, taking in a quick breath. She tried to put up a front as best she could. "You're going to listen to me, Hiro. You haven't eaten all day. Either you get up now and come sit down with us, or I'll bring the food to you, and you'll eat it that way. Which on would you rather do?"

It came just like it had. "I don't want to eat." This time, though, the words were hardly able to be heard. Aunt Cass hardly registered them in the first place. All she was aware of was that they came out in a harsh sob so strong, it shook his entire body. And after he got the phrase out, he brought his hands up to his eyes and pressed hard, falling into a series of harsh, body-wracking sobs. They were loud, and seemed to bounce off the walls and reverberate in Cass' ears.

Standing there, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly ajar, she tried to think of what she was supposed to do. She turned and looked over at Tadashi, waiting for some kind of answer. He was looking at Hiro in shock, stricken beyond coherence. He moved first, rushing over so that he could crouch down by the couch and wrap his arms around his brother as tightly as he could with his injuries. He rested his chin on top of Hiro's head, looking a little sick as he tried to stave off Hiro's hiccups and wails.

Robotically, just because she didn't know what else to do, Aunt Cass knelt down and did the same. Wrapping her arms around Hiro, she leaned down and tried to sooth him with a gentle 'shhh'. Trying desperately to try and plug up the holes to a dam that was already crumbling much too fast to be fixed.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He had been asleep all day. Just now, he had woken up, but he might as well have still been unconscious, for all he was doing. Hiro was still turned away on the couch, motionless and not looking up. He was still refusing to eat, and Cass was starting to believe that by now, he was actually making himself sick. He'd gotten a fever earlier, so at least he had an excuse for his exhaustion. Or…one that he could mask as an excuse over the fact that he really just didn't want to move at all. He'd stayed on the couch, and despite Aunt Cass coming up frequently to try and urge him into action, it never changed. Nothing did.

Right now, she was standing over in the kitchen, over the stove. She was stirring…something, in a pot. She had forgotten what it was. She was just moving her arm robotically, her expression downtrodden as she stared straight down. She was throwing her hearing over into the living room, where Tadashi was sitting against the couch, having a very much one-sided conversation. He had been having one for the past twenty minutes— speaking aloud and waiting every so often for Hiro to reply, and just resorting to going on when he didn't. It was like playing tennis with yourself— he was serving the ball over and over, waiting as Hiro just turned to watch it sail past. He would wait a few moments more, and then just turn and patiently serve another.

"I think tomorrow is supposed to be pretty nice out. We should go and see if there's some peace and quiet in the park," Tadashi offered, smiling as he turned to look back at his brother. Hiro was still twisted away, and he didn't rouse at all at the suggestion. Tadashi's smile and efforts were unrelenting, though. He just continued on. "I know that you wouldn't be able to…you know, do much of the stuff they have there, but they had this really nice walking trail." He waited a bit then frowned, looking down at the floor with a little bit of embarrassment. "I would go down there a lot when you were gone. To try and clear my head. So. You know…it's good for that."

Nothing.

Tadashi grinned. "It'd be a good change, too. You could get some fresh air in your lungs— I'm sure you'll be really relieved for that, huh? We could go down just the two of us, if you wanted. I would have a lot of fun, I don't know about you." He glanced back. By this point, Hiro had shifted just a little bit. It was a sudden habit that had cropped back up for him— to take his arm and pull it back so that his mouth was covered by the inside of his elbow. It blocked out any excess noise he could make, and though he had never done it before now, there was a pretty good chance it was not the first time he had done such a thing.

"Or we could go somewhere else and just talk," Tadashi offered, completely relentless. Hiro was shaking a little bit by now, but his head was so ducked away, it was hard to tell why. Or at least that's the easier thing to swallow. "Bro, to bro, right?" he attempted a joke and a small laugh, turning back to see whether or not it was effective. Not at all. His smile turned a little sadder. He leaned back awkwardly so that he could rest his head on the couch, and Aunt Cass' heart tore at the look in his eyes she could see, even from where she stood.

His eyebrows pulled together a little bit. His next words came out in a small mumble. "I'm starting school in two days." The information came out a little reluctantly. Where there was no response, he just curled a little closer to the couch. "I'll be gone again. Just in the mornings— I'll be right back. I can't stay away for long." His eyes flashed. He glanced down a little bit. "I think I'll worry too much about you to stay away." He shifted a little bit, uneasy in every aspect of himself. When he spoke next, his voice was even lower, and Aunt Cass had to strain to hear.

"I don't know what happened," he rasped. "I don't…I don't know what _changed_. But…but if it was that interview, you can just tell me what I can do to help you. I know you're upset, and I can't help you much. But…I wanna do all I can."

Hiro's reply was nothing but a squeak. Aunt Cass had now gravitated towards the living room, not even worrying whether or not she was caught eavesdropping. "I'm nothing," he sobbed out, hardly able to be heard clearly through his elbow. "I'm so stupid, I'm worthless. You hate me— you complain about me. I'm better off not even here."

He sat up just a little bit more. "Hiro, don't say that, please," he begged, just as quiet as before. "Please don't say that. I love you!"

"I was supposed to stay there," he sobbed. "I was supposed to stay there. And be with him. I don't know what to do now. Now I'm just a burden."

Tadashi started to draw backwards. "Y-You're not a burden," he tried weakly. "You're…you're my brother. No one else. And I just _want_ you to be that. That's _all_ I want."

Hiro just broke down all over again. He didn't reply— he couldn't.

But the message was just as clear. It came in the hiccupping gasps and the muffled sobs that were wrenched from his mouth.

He wanted the same exact thing.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

They were running the café today. It was the eve before school started, and so it was the group's last chance to help out before they were swamped over with assignments and midterms and alike things. Fred was handling the customers and taking orders, because he was obviously the most social of the group. Gogo went along with him to make sure that he wasn't scaring them too much, though. Wasabi had gravitated, of course, back to handle the dishes and the trash that was left behind by customers. The moment they got up, he was swooping down to clean up after them. And there were certainly a lot of customers, now that the famous bakery had come off of its small hiatus.

Honey Lemon was manning the cash register, and handing out sweet 'goodbye's and 'thank you's to those who paid and left. Tadashi was…well, he had started out going from job to job, and helping out just wherever he could. But now he had come to a standstill, merely standing near the display case of food and looking off into space. Every person he seemed to come into contact with was asking him about Hiro, and how his little brother was doing. They were like vultures scavenging for information to live off of, and he did not have the heart or the stomach to tell them that no, everything was not alright. That the only reason they were down here now was because Aunt Cass was upstairs trying desperately to get Hiro to actually move for the first time in days and get something into his stomach.

Hiro hadn't been eating, and he hadn't been sleeping. Dark circles, both from sleeplessness and sickness, were underneath his eyes like shadows. Tadashi would wake up a few times in the night, and hear him crying— he was trying to be subtle about it all, but with the house completely silent, it wasn't hard to miss. Tadashi was out of ideas on how to help by this point. He had tried everything. Hiro had hit a wall, and he had hit it hard enough to rattle all cognitive thought from his mind and left it instead to be shrouded in darkness. By now, the only thing that Tadashi could think to do was stay down here and run the café for Aunt Cass. Thankfully enough, he wasn't alone. He had the only people he could count on right there with him.

"Tadashi?" He jerked at his name and turned around, his eyes wide with surprise as he was found caught off-guard. Honey Lemon was looking at him in concern, her head tipped to the side. "Did you hear me?" she asked. When he just stared at her a little blankly, she started over. "I said we're out of ones. I don't have any others for change."

He had to stop himself and figure out what she was talking about. When he did, he gave a hesitant nod. "…Oh." It was a stupid response, and he was aware of that— plainly so. But at the same time, it was all the response he cared to give. _Oh, no. We're out of ones. Heaven help us. This is such a big problem. I sure hope we can figure something as bad as this out._ He turned away, trying to hide the fact that he was growing irritated and frustrated. It was easier than it normally was, for him. Usually, it took quite a lot to make him upset. As the thought occurred, he let out a gusty sigh. He reached up to run his hand through his hair.

Honey Lemon, of course, was more than aware of his change in attitude. A sympathetic look crawled over her face, and she asked a little softly: "Is everything alright, Tadashi?" She knew some of what was going on. Tadashi had explained it to them today— how else was he going to take away their last day of Winter Break, after all? But he had also texted her quite a lot whenever there was a rough patch, and a few times he had even called her. So she was more than aware that something was awry. She just didn't know how far it reached.

"No." The reply was flat and sharp at the same time, somehow. She was almost surprised by the ferocity in which it was returned. She frowned a little bit, but told herself that she shouldn't judge too harshly. Not right now. Tadashi was watching Fred and Gogo bounce from table to table to check up on people, and hopefully satisfy some of their curiosity. "No, it's not." He turned towards a few of the decorations that were around and had fallen, or gone crooked. When he moved them, he did so with a slam that caused Honey Lemon to flinch away harshly. "It's all a _mess_. A complete _mess_ and I can't be here to help starting tomorrow. So no, Honey Lemon, _nothing_ is alright!"

She wrung her hands together in her lap and bit down on her lower lip. "I'm…I'm sorry," she tried to amend. "I should have known better than to ask."

Tadashi locked his jaw backwards. "Well, it was a stupid question!" he snapped.

She nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

Tadashi was silent for a moment. He still seemed more than angered. But slowly, she watched with a heavy heart as his expression cleared, and it was replaced with one of shock and horror. He reached up and pressed his hand against his temple. "I'm…I'm so sorry, Honey Lemon," he said, his voice nothing but a wheeze. "I didn't— I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have— I'm such a jerk!" He shook his head, closing his eyes and trying to keep a good head on his shoulders. A better one. "I'm sorry, Honey Lemon," he repeated, sounding suddenly very, very exhausted. "I didn't mean for that to happen."

She offered him a weary smile that didn't reach her eyes. She gave a small shrug of her shoulders and asked: "Nobody meant for _any_ of this to happen."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Usually, the first morning after a break from school was awful. You were so unused to getting up early in the morning that you literally had to drag yourself out of bed, debating whether or not you should even go to class, or just skip it the entire time. But Tadashi was used to getting up early, now. Over most of the break, Tadashi had either been woken up by Hiro's yelling, or he had automatically told himself to get up, just so that he could check for Hiro and make sure that he was alright. That nothing had changed in the middle of the night while he was unaware.

So when Tadashi's phone vibrated – he made sure the night before that it wouldn't ring and wake everyone else up – he got up easily and without even the smallest longing for further rest. He turned and tiptoed up the steps, getting dressed and ruffling his hair into something that would probably be good enough to pass as adequate. In terms of the way he looked, he didn't really care at all. If it was up to him, he wouldn't even have to go today. He would stay home, where he was actually needed. But he had offered to Aunt Cass, and she had been more than adamant he could not skip. So here he was.

He headed downstairs. He just needed to brush his teeth, and then he would be ready to shuffle out. He wasn't in the mood to…well, _try_. He just wanted to get in, and then get out. But unfortunately, brushing his teeth kinda wasn't something he could skip. So he walked as lightly as possible, and tried to make sure that he didn't wake anyone up. Checking himself, he turned and glanced over towards the couch as he went by.

Aunt Cass was still asleep on the floor— she was so tired, she probably _couldn't_ be woken up just by footsteps. He looked over for Hiro and stopped short a little bit. He blinked, his forehead creasing over in bemusement. Hiro wasn't there. He wasn't on the couch, where he had been for days now. His wheelchair was gone as well. Tadashi cautiously looked around, not sure whether to be scared or triumphant. Was it good that he was up and moving, or was it something that was completely the opposite? Biting down on his lower lip, he turned and started over towards the bathroom, deciding that he would check that first.

He leaned over and knocked on the door, raising his voice hesitantly in a whisper. There was still no sense in waking Aunt Cass up for something that could turn out to be absolutely nothing. "Hiro?" he hissed. There wasn't a reply, but looking down, he could see that there was light shining underneath the door. "Hiro?" he repeated the call. Unless someone had forgotten to turn the light off, then Hiro _had_ to be in there. He couldn't get his wheelchair downstairs or upstairs by himself. And he would have heard his little brother struggling if that _had been_ the case. He shifted uncomfortably, but finally drew up enough courage to reach for the doorknob and turn it.

He pushed his way inside, finding that his concern outweighed any awkwardness he might have had for walking in on Hiro. The door opened with the smallest of creaks, and he only started to peek in, just in case Hiro decided to notice him and shriek at him to leave. But that wasn't the scene that met him. Not at all. He almost wished it was— he wished that he could have walked in on Hiro, and he would have taken the most embarrassing and weird situation at disposal.

Opening the door, he had to push a little harder, finding that Hiro's wheelchair had been shoved against it. At first, he thought that it was a mistake. Hiro was still a novice when it came to what to do with the thing, not to mention that he hated it inside and out. At first, Tadashi was just under the impression that Hiro couldn't get out of it quick enough. But that wasn't the case either. Every single assumption that Tadashi made in the effort to try and make this whole situation click and make rational sense was all for naught. Because this wasn't rational. It wasn't.

The wheelchair hadn't been left there by mistake. It had been braced up against the door to try and make sure that nobody came in. Hiro wasn't finally up and stretching his legs— he was on the floor of the bathroom. Horror wrote itself over Tadashi's face in a heartbeat, and before he knew it, he was slamming himself against the door, struggling to open it despite the barricade that had been put there. He was screaming— or at least, he thought he was. All he was focusing on now was his baby brother. He had to get to his baby brother.

Hiro was on the floor of the bathroom, completely motionless. His eyes were closed, and his face was numb, and Tadashi might have been able to entertain the idea that he had just suddenly fallen asleep, if it hadn't been for the vomit that was staining the side of his face and his shirt. Even as Tadashi was scrambling forward, Hiro would unconsciously jerk forward and choke feebly. He was sprawled out on his side, and across the floor was the prescription bottle of sleep medication that had been given to Aunt Cass.

It was completely empty. All of the capsules were gone.

Tadashi finally shoved his way into the room. He stumbled forward, and as soon as he reached Hiro, his legs gave out from underneath him. He dropped liked dead weight, his knees screeching in pain at the harsh contact. But he didn't care. He just grabbed at Hiro desperately, screaming his name at the top of his lungs as he tried to wake him up, or garner at least some sort of reaction. " _Hiro_!" he sobbed, the scream making his entire body ache. He ducked his head down and buried it away, as if somehow that would make everything in front of him disappear.

He could feel Hiro's breathing, but it was weak and hardly there. " _Hiro_!" he screamed, the yell punctured with harsh sobs and gasps. " _Why_!?" From then, he could not piece together coherent thought. He just screamed and cried, scrambling at Hiro and trying to do something— _anything_. There was a slam and flurry of footsteps, and Tadashi looked up to see through streaming eyes that Aunt Cass was standing in the doorway. Horror and shock was splintered across her face, and one hand was clamped tightly over her mouth. She might have been screaming too— she might have been crying and wailing just like Tadashi was. He couldn't tell.

As soon as he realized that Aunt Cass had turned and rushed back for her phone that was still in the living room, Tadashi looked back at Hiro. His baby brother's head was slack and to the side; he was limp like a ragdoll, completely motionless except for lifeless twitches every now and then. His skin was ghostly pale. And despite however loud Tadashi screamed, there was no reaction from him. Tadashi had thought before that things could not possibly get any worse— that they had hit rock bottom and the only way from here was up.

But now he was here, kneeling on the bathroom floor and cradling his baby brother close to his chest, in complete disregard to the vomit that was now getting on him. The ambulance would come, for a second time, and, for a second time, his little brother would be wrenched away from his desperate grasp. For a second time, he had been unable to help his little brother— for the second time, he was not able to fulfill the promise he had made to himself and his parents that he would keep him safe and sound. For the second time, he was forced to face the idea of a life without his brother. For the second time, he was holding Hiro carefully in his arms, as if the simple way of cradling him would be able to somehow keep him together.

For the second time, Tadashi Hamada's entire world was crumbling down around him.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: _'Heartless. How are you heartless?_

 _I see your sadness…and I make it my own._

 _There's gotta be a better way to get out of here…'_

A Better Way – Swiss Army Man

This is the longest chapter I've ever written. For anything, I'm pretty sure. And it certainly carried importance, which is why I had to fit it all into one chapter. It had to be all together, and I did not want to drag it out any more than I already did. This is the turning point I mentioned before, and the story certainly will be different from here on out. It'll be more what everyone out there in the review box have expressed that they would like to see. So I'm very, very excited to write it. And I hope you're excited to read it!

If this chapter _did_ hit you like a ton of bricks, that _was_ the intention. I did my job, for that.

I leave for Disney in five days, so maybe I will be able to update before then. But I have noticed that I've slackened in a few of my other stories, so I am subconsciously slipping back into that ten review monitor just to organize myself a bit more. I hope you all will understand. And I hope that this extra long chapter will make up for any of that.

Please review! I would love to hear what you think about things! And I hope you're excited for what's to come! Any questions/concerns are always welcome for me to fix or talk out, as always!


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: I think I'm going to have to start cutting back on the length of these chapters. 20 pages each is just too hard to keep up with now, and if I make them shorter, updates won't be as sparse, hopefully. College starts soon for me, and I'm already stressing and freaking out about my first time, too. Not to mention that the feedback and the effort don't really match up as well as I would like it to, so I apologize if this comes as an inconvenience to some. However, I think especially for the first few weeks of college and just getting used to it, you'll have to bear with me.

This story _is_ coming down to its last series of chapters, so the optimistic side of me kind of wants to finish it as soon as I can. But all the same, please just don't get frustrated. I can guarantee you all that nobody is more frustrated than I am.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It was…weird. That was the best word that he could use. Or at least, it was by far the easiest. There were probably other words he could use— ones that would cover the situation a bit more. But they would also make everything snap together and make sense, and not stay muddled like he wanted them to. He had worked hard to get into this state. A state of denial, or ignorance at what was really happening. If that was all ruined, he wouldn't be able to keep standing here in the hallway. He would buckle down, crashing to the floor faster than a three-hundred pound weight. He would fall over back into the fit of crying and hysterics, and severe, severe anger. Already, he was wavering on the brink. He couldn't take any risks.

But weird was certainly a way to describe it. How, whenever Tadashi paced up and down these hospital corridors, he was met with smiles and tender 'hello's. And that wasn't the part that set him off. It was the part that everyone knew his name. They remembered him, and now they were welcoming him back, as if this was some get-together that they had missed him for. Like it _wasn't_ because he had been dragged here unwillingly by the worst possible forces that existed in this stupid world. It was making him feel worse— to walk down a hall, or sit in the waiting room and hear it from everyone passing by. "Hey Tadashi!" they would call cheerfully. "I hope you're doing well." Or they would offer a sympathetic look and a simple: "Hello, Tadashi."

It got underneath his skin. He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream and cry and turn around and throw the closest thing to him across the room. He wanted to throw something against the wall and watch it break and shatter into a million pieces, so that he could officially be able to look at something, and know that, at least in this one instance, he would be the one that was better off. But he restrained himself. He just sat in the waiting room of the Intensive Care Unit, his stare hollow as he looked off into space.

Hiro had been ripped from him what seemed like years ago. The paramedics had taken him away with haste, and Tadashi had felt like he was made entirely out of rubber as he had stayed blandly on the bathroom floor. Aunt Cass had gone with them inside the ambulance. Robotically, hardly moving in the first place, Tadashi had picked himself up off the floor and wandered downstairs, in nothing more than a haze. He had driven to the hospital on his scooter— but he didn't even remember where he parked. He'd found his way up to the Intensive Care Unit by pure muscle memory. Now he was just sitting there pointlessly. Waiting for Aunt Cass to come back to him.

To tell him whether or not Hiro was alright.

He wasn't aware of how long he had been sitting until he turned and glanced at the clock on the wall. Just about now, he would have been ending his third class of the day. His stomach was hollow and empty— every so often, it would growl in need for some kind of food. But he wasn't about to budge at all. He was cemented in the chair, permanently rooted until his aunt came back. He hadn't been tired when he woke up this morning, but now, he was suddenly far too exhausted. His eyes ached and stung, and he felt like his body was just one huge bruise. Wearily, he would reach up and rub at his forehead every so often. His only other movement came whenever he changed the way his legs were crossed. Just to make sure his legs didn't go dead on him.

"Tadashi." The voice was soft, and at first it was unfamiliar. But looking up, he realized that he should not have been so blind. Of course he knew this person. Probably much more than he should have. It was Ami— the nurse that Hiro had had before. For once he was almost thankful to be approached by a nurse, if only because she did not wear some artificial smile or beam. Her expression shared a small piece of his own; there was a frown weighing down her face, and sorrow hiding in the edges of her eyes. When he met her gaze, she tilted her head a little bit to the side. "Hello," she said softly. "I wish that I could say that it was good to see you."

Tadashi looked away, grimacing a little bit. "Yeah," he said lamely, his voice rasping a little bit against his throat, like it came out through sandpaper. "Yeah, I don't…" He was trying to smile, and for a second, he had it. He had that small grin on his face, and he waited for the moment in which he could give out a small laugh and declare: "Yeah, I never thought _this_ would happen! Life is crazy, isn't it? Anyway, how are you doing?"

But he didn't get that. He didn't get anywhere close. Because no sooner did he manage to craft the smile onto his face, he was instantly punched in the gut with a severe and sharp pang of guilt. And immediately, the smile was wiped away, and it was replaced instead with a horrible, deep frown. His entire expression crumbled, and he hunched over, pressing his hands against his forehead as he accidentally let out a gut-wrenching sob. He'd been trying to hold it back this entire time, and suddenly here he was. Breaking down into pieces on the fourth floor of a children's hospital because all he could think about was Hiro's grayed, numbed face. How dead he had looked. How dead that Tadashi now _felt_.

Ami wilted immediately. She hesitated for a few moments, but not for too long. She was a nurse— she had seen every kind of breakdown possible. And so, with a sympathetic hum, she walked the few short steps it took her to reach him, so that she could sit down beside him. "I'm sorry," she said gently, reaching over so that she could rub his back. She was trying to be as comforting as she could. Some way to possibly staunch this tidal wave of sorrow that seemed to run amuck in this family.

And that was really the only thing she could reflect on as she sat with Tadashi, who seemed unable to stop his heaving and gasps of air.

This poor, poor family.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It was near one, now. Tadashi's phone was ringing off and on, repeatedly. All by the same people. His friends were obviously clambering for information from him. He had no idea why— was it just because they didn't see him back at school, or was it because somehow word had leaked out about what had happened? It probably didn't help that he was ignoring their calls, whenever they made them. But he was resigned; he didn't want to answer the phone, and he didn't want to face their worries. He had enough of his own. He felt that if he said a single word – even saying the simple 'Hello' – he ran the risk of falling apart at the seams.

Ami had left a long time ago. He'd been alone ever since. A few people had come and gone. He'd watched them intently, where he was holed away in the corner. He watched a frazzled woman rush in, and beeline straight for the rooms that were on the other side of the glass doors. He watched a little girl wander inside, only to be dragged out by an embarrassed mother after she had turned to stare curiously over in his direction. He had seen families file in, and then file out. He'd seen happiness, he'd seen relief, and he'd seen sorrow. But this entire time, and he hadn't seen Aunt Cass, and he certainly hadn't seen Hiro.

He had no experience with this. With anything that was happening. He was so used to being good at things— to picking up something and mastering it after a short burst of practice. He wasn't like Hiro, in the way that he seemed to be an expert at every single little thing he came into contact with. But he certainly felt that, at least after some work and effort, he was capable of handling himself with anything that came along. Now, that confidence was stripped away, leaving him feeling bare and hollow. He wasn't sure what to do with it. So he just sat there. Confused. Lost. Upset. His head buried away in his hands, so that maybe his problems would lose track of where he was, and he could finally find some peace.

But a little bit of that peace didn't come until around thirty minutes later. There was the small click of a door shutting— not unlike the many that have led other people in and out. At first, Tadashi didn't think about it at all. But then his eyes managed to catch on to who was actually coming out into the waiting room. And he straightened up immediately at the sight of Aunt Cass. She was frazzled and she looked exhausted, as if she had just run a million miles without a single pause. Her hair was flyaway and strung out. Her eyes and nose were bright red from crying. But when her eyes trained themselves to her nephew, she softened, and the smallest hint of a smile flickered over her face.

She went over and sat down by Tadashi, who hadn't moved from his corner this entire time. She ignored the hungry way that he looked at her, and looked over him with just a little bit of concern. "You've eaten today, right?" she asked, her voice coming out warped and rough. Before Tadashi could reply, she reached up to rub her forehead with a grimace. "Oh, honey, you should have just— you should have just gone to school. Now you're behind, and you'll have homework, and everyone will _ask_ you why you weren't there today, and I don't want you to feel like—"

She was rambling. She always rambled when she was caught up in something, or upset. Tadashi was an expert in interrupting her by this point. "Aunt Cass." She stopped short, her mouth halfway open. A little rapidly, she looked down at her lap, frowning. Tadashi leaned forward a little bit. "What's going on?" This was the first time he had seen her since this morning. Even then, his attention had hardly been fixed on her. How _could_ it be expected to be any different? "Is he okay? What's been happening?"

She sighed, though the flurry of questions didn't seem to surprise her at all. Aunt Cass just looked up, getting about five times more tired, if such a thing was even possible. He hadn't thought that it would be able to happen, but here it was. Just like everything else that had happened up until this point, really. "He's asleep," she sighed, her words carried in nothing more than a gust of breath. Immediately, Tadashi sagged forward, every muscle that had been tense and wrought with worry now reduced to jelly in the wake of what her words meant.

He was okay. No— he was _alive_.

She went on. "They, um…they had to pump his stomach. He took all of his pills at once, which was— you know, that obviously not…" She trailed off for a few moments, her expression becoming disheartened. She was quick to jar herself out of it all, but it was only after a small hiccup of lapse. "So they've just been watching him. But he's mostly just sleeping. They said it's only natural. And that maybe he'll wake up soon. He'll just be disoriented for a while. And— and he can't eat anything really when he wakes up. So…" She let it die this time. She did not pick her speech back up.

Tadashi was about to feel yet another tidal wave of relief. But he stopped himself short before he had the chance. Instead, he frowned, seeing something in Cass' eyes that she was probably trying to hold back. His forehead creased, and, almost reluctantly so, he dared to ask a small: "What?" She grimaced a little bit, and that was when Tadashi's fears hit home. That was it— that was where all his misgivings were stemming from. "What's wrong?" he asked. He could feel his nerves beginning to untie and fray. Fall apart. "What's wrong? There's something you're not telling me."

She ducked her head down low, and her eyes clenched tightly shut. Tadashi leaned forward even more. He could feel his heart thud heavily against his chest. What was she holding back? Tears were beading in her eyes almost quicker than Tadashi could even comprehend, and his tense mind immediately began to leap to the worst conclusions possible. Something was wrong, something had happened. Would he somehow not be able to walk? Did his vision just go the _rest_ of the way out the window? Could something like that happen? Could this ordeal have tipped over and created a whole different, horrible domino effect?

He was thinking of anything and everything. But somehow he was still unable to anticipate the words she choked out next.

"We've got to send him away."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He wasn't unconscious. But he might as well have been. His eyes were open, but they were completely dull and lifeless. There wasn't even the smallest hint of their usual spark or laughter. But then again, Tadashi hadn't seen that in what felt like eons, as it was. He was back in that hospital bed, small enough to be swallowed whole by the pillows and blankets around him. His skin still held that ghostly pale, and he resembled a skeleton more than he did an actual person. He was hooked back up to those beeping machines, and each buzz of a heartbeat was like a stab to Tadashi's chest.

He hadn't said anything this entire time. Ever since he had woken up, he had been as silent as a mouse. Aunt Cass had tried once or twice to get a reply out of him. She had asked him if everything was alright, or if he needed anything. But his lips stayed together. His face stayed turned away— instead to the glass wall away from his bed. Tadashi had tried a few times, too. But it had been pointless. Useless. This entire situation was.

It was an entire day since Tadashi had found his baby brother in the bathroom, choking and barely breathing. Hiro was fully awake now— coherent and able to make sense of things. Or at least, that was what they were told. They didn't actually have proof in terms of conversation. Just failed attempts. There wasn't anything surefire to do other than just sit around. So that was what Tadashi was doing. Aunt Cass had left to go finalize some more paperwork that was needed for sending Hiro to the best mental health hospital that they had found.

So he was alone. He was sitting in one of the plush chairs that were available to those who were supposed to just sit and wait for things to be better. Tadashi had thought that once he got out of this chair the first time, he would never sit in one again. He was facing a lot of those situations, now. Trying to ignore the fact that this chair was burning straight through him, he tried his best to appear relaxed and normal. Like they _weren't_ back in the Intensive Care of a children's hospital. Back here at square one. He sighed, hunching his back a little bit so that he could keep himself from getting too stiff.

The tension in the air was broken for a brief moment, when Tadashi felt his phone vibrate again in his pants pocket. He turned with a heavy stare and looked down to see that it was Gogo. For the fourth time today. He felt a small sting of guilt that he hadn't called any of his friends yet, and told them what was happening. He was pretty sure that they were probably going more than a little insane by this point. But, no matter what he felt, Tadashi couldn't bring himself to speak about it yet. He hadn't even really talked about it with Aunt Cass.

Maybe if he didn't talk about it, or if he didn't help spread the word, then he might wake up. Or this whole thing would shatter around him like glass, and he would look over to realize that Hiro was grinning and happy— completely unharmed and bursting with life. So he just sighed and powered down his phone, declining the call and sending it straight to voicemail. It would go and collect with the other twenty that were already there.

He turned the side a little bit, sinking back into the chair. Maybe he could catch a few minutes of rest— that was all that he was willing to give. He would wake back up and he might be able to gather enough energy to scoot closer and try and wriggle out conversation from his brother. But as soon as he laid back and started to close his eyes, there was a soft voice. It was nothing but a rasp. The shallowest of whispers. But it might as well have been a scream, for how instantly Tadashi jerked into attention.

"I'm sorry."

He looked over to see that Hiro's stare had somehow transitioned over to him. It was still that vacant, not-all-there look. As if he wasn't able to actually see anything that was in front of him. But it was on him there, nonetheless. And he had to make a conscious effort to gather himself up before he responded, so that he could properly give out something that wasn't entirely ridiculous. Though at it was, his voice was noticeably choked and high. "Don't be sorry," he urged, finding that his voice was just as much a whisper as his little brother's. Hiro just blinked slowly. So Tadashi mumbled out: "Why are you sorry?"

He almost seemed lost at the question. Or maybe that was just him being lost in general.

Tadashi's eyebrows pulled together. He thought of his little brother, lifeless and nothing but a ragdoll on the ground. Twice, he had seen him like that. Twice, Tadashi had pulled him close and screamed nothing but begs and pleads for him to open his eyes. Twice, he had been disappointed, and horribly, horribly terrified. So when he pressed, his voice _did_ give out. He wasn't surprised at all when it did. "What are you sorry for, Hiro?" he asked, each syllable shivering with trepidation and pain.

Hiro finally moved. But it was just to drag his head away and turn his stare over to the other side, away from his brother. And he just repeated himself. A record that was too scratched and beaten to stay on track. "I'm sorry."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He had been transitioned over to the wheelchair. They had gone down to the car. They had driven in silence. And now they were standing in front of the new psychiatric hospital where they were going to leave Hiro. Where they were going to leave Hiro, and not be able to come back or see him until he was…'cleared.' That was the word— it was the specific word that had come up after Tadashi had searched up the name of this institution. Until Hiro was deemed medically sound and not a danger to himself anymore, he would be allowed to come home; he would be 'cleared.' Until then…Tadashi wasn't at all sure when he was going to be able to see his baby brother again.

There was somebody to collect Hiro near the front door. They were waiting to take him inside. But thankfully enough, they were standing off to the side, allowing the family to have their space before anything else was to be done. So far, the trio had been motionless, too unsure of what to do. They just stared, the last forty-eight hours seeming to have gone by in nothing but a blur, but somehow longer than a year.

It took just as long to be able to finally snap into motion, or really move at all. Slowly, Aunt Cass glanced over to Tadashi. Once they exchanged similar look of apprehension, she moved over so that she could stand in front of Hiro. Her elder nephew followed suit, though his feet dragged with reluctance at the goal that was set up now: leaving. At first, Hiro was just as numb as he had been recently. His eyes still held that same blankness, and he merely looked at the building in front of them. It had been explained to him, of course. All of it had. And he had been silent throughout the whole thing. Tadashi had started to fear that it meant absolutely nothing to him.

But now, approaching him and entering his line of vision, Tadashi recognized the fear and anxiousness was that slowly seeping into his little brother's eyes. The only thing that had cracked the deadness in two whole days.

Aunt Cass crouched down a little bit so she could look at her nephew fully. At the boy she had basically raised his entire life. Already, her eyes were shinier than normal, and her smile came across as nothing but pained. "Well…I guess this is it," she offered weakly, trying to sound upbeat, regardless of the situation they were in. Hiro looked right back at her; he didn't say a single word in response. So she took in a small breath that came across as more of a gasp, and reached over to put her hand on his cheek. The one that, just a couple months ago, had been split open by Callaghan. There was a faint, white line that split his skin where the stitches had been. It was all that remained.

On the outside, that was. On the inside, there was far too much damage to even see what had been there before. There was no healing there; not yet.

Tadashi was starting to dread that there never would be.

Cass was struggling to keep some degree of control over herself— to keep herself in check. If not for her own sake, then definitely for Hiro's. The smile of hers remained on her face, even if it was wavering to begin with. When Hiro didn't reply to her at first, she continued. Though each word came out very slow. "You have to understand…" she tried weakly. "You have to understand that I don't want to do this. This isn't what I want." Hiro was growing more and more concerned, and visibly so. It tore at her heart, and her fingers strayed up to card through his hair instead. Her voice cracked, and her eyes watered even more. "But I want you to be happy." She looked at him up and down. At how bony and fragile he still was. And her voice was even more choked up when she murmured: "And I want you to be _healthy_."

Tadashi had to glance away when he saw Hiro's bottom lip tremble. And he had to cringe when he heard the waver that caused his whole voice to tremble. "I don't want to do this." Cass looked at the ground, shutting her eyes as tightly as she possibly could. Hiro looked from one family member to the other; by now, he was openly beginning to panic. The desperation and fear on his face only multiplied and doubled over on itself. When he spoke again, he was much louder. "I don't want to do this."

The force behind his words cracked then, like a building that had horrible foundation. Just like the tower, his voice was crumbling down until there was nothing but rubble. A whimper that barely broke through to auditability. "Please don't leave me." Cass flinched at the plea, as if Hiro had reached over and struck her as hard as he could across her face. He reached out with a shaking hand and held tight to her wrist. Again, she cringed. In far more pain that she could even show on the outside. "Please don't leave me. I-I know I'm not anything that you want right now, but…but I can…" He couldn't even offer a solution, though. His face just fell and he ducked away.

Aunt Cass was more than alarmed at the insinuation. "Honey, no!" she cried, immediately whirling back to him and gripping his arms tightly. He tried to look away from her, but it was impossible. There was no choice but to meet her gaze. Both of them were completely heartbroken; it was hard to tell which was more desolate. "Listen to me," she pressed, her voice hard now against her emotion. "You are, and always have been, _one_ of the two _greatest things_ in my _life_." Tadashi stuffed his hands into his pockets. Finding that he could not look away any longer, he resorted to staring at the pavement between his feet. "And no matter _what_ happens, the love and pride I have for you will _never_ change." She paused for a heartbeat, breathing a little heavily by this point. Once she recovered enough, she repeated herself brokenly: "I just want you to be happy again."

Hiro stared at her. It seemed like they all aged a million years before he managed to utter out something in response. "What if I can't do that for you?" he rasped.

She made a noise then, in the back of her throat. Something that was almost too painful to listen to. Aunt Cass chewed on her bottom lip, and quickly rose up one hand to wipe her cheeks. The question was too hard to swallow, and the water in her eyes finally gushed forward. She quickly cleared her throat, taking in yet another gasp before she leaned forward to plant a kiss on his forehead. Gently. As if he was still made of glass. "You will," she promised. Tadashi was almost fooled into thinking she actually _was_ confident in herself. "I know you will."

Hiro wilted. In a way, it made up for things. He was showing enough doubt for both of them.

She pulled back and stepped to the side, letting Tadashi have his final say. He wasn't sure that he was ready— he wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. His stomach was tied and twisted into one huge knot, and his mouth suddenly ran dry. But he forced his legs to move, and for himself to take those few steps forward. He knelt down as well, so that his little brother wouldn't be forced to look up. For a while, they just stared at each other. Maybe there was nothing left to say, and that was why they were silent.

But it was more likely that there was just _too much_ to say.

Tadashi broke the tension and offered him a tender smile. "I'm gonna miss you, buddy," he managed. Hiro deflated significantly, his mouth hanging halfway open. Mostly out of cowardice to face what his brother _might_ say, Tadashi went on before he could possibly interject. "This isn't…this isn't your fault. Alright? None of it is. I don't want you think anything different. At all. Alright?" He needed confirmation— reassurance. That his brother wouldn't put himself down any more than he already had. "Nothing is on you."

Hiro's eyes flickered away. He bit on the inside of his cheek, trying to concentrate more on the physical pain than the mental. At least the physical pain was a little bit tolerable. Tadashi leaned over a bit, going slowly just so he wouldn't scare Hiro. But he noticed that, even with the caution, his baby brother went a little bit stiffer as he clapped his hand down lightly on his shoulder. He squeezed down a little bit, tilting his head to the side. "Hey." There was a flatness to his voice now that asked for attention— for a serious amount of it.

He was relieved when Hiro was willing enough to turn and give him that. Hiro dragged himself to look at him, though judging the look on his face, that was probably the last thing he wanted to do. Tadashi raised his eyebrows a little bit— imploring him to listen and take what he was going to say to heart. "No matter what happens, and no matter what's happened in the past…you're _always_ gonna be my little brother. And when you're ready to come back, we're gonna be waiting for you right where you left us. Because you'll always be part of _our_ family. No one else's." He waited for a reply. He didn't get one at first, but he wasn't about to let that be an outcome. He prompted a soft: "Right?"

Hiro nodded. It was barely a twitch of the head, but it was there. Tadashi breathed out a sigh of relief and smiled to himself. "Alright, then," he said. "We'll be waiting, then. Take all the time you need." His eyes flashed over with sorrow as the image of Hiro laying sprawled out on the bathroom floor burned again in the back of his mind. It was like it was engraved there already. Every time he blinked, it was there— like a ghost that almost was haunting him anyway. He started to pull away, but at the last second, he thought better of it. Instead, he reached up and took off his hat, pulling it down in between them and extending it forward a little bit.

He had been given it back a while ago by the police. He supposed that it was only so long before they had to return things of little importance to whatever actual case was happening right now. He hadn't even asked for it— they had just showed up one night and handed it to him. The exchange had lasted less than a minute, probably. Thinking of it now, he remembered back to when Hiro always used to steal his hat to try and make him angry. It would do the job, certainly— Tadashi would always immediately get livid when Hiro swiped the thing away. But now, he was more driven by something else.

He leaned over and handed it to him. "You can take this. If you want."

Tadashi got it into Hiro's hands. He waited for some reaction. At first, there wasn't one. Hiro just stared at the thing, as if he had never seen it before in his life. His eyes had that hollow look inside of them that meant he was thinking about something Tadashi could not relate to— he couldn't even bring himself to fathom it. Hiro just dragged his thumb across the brim a few times. Then he looked back to his brother, searching his face earnestly. He didn't exactly reply to what Tadashi had said. He just asked a question underneath his breath. "Are you going to be okay?"

The question surprised him. It was enough to floor him for a good three seconds, which he spent just staring straight ahead. Thankfully enough, he jarred himself out of the reverie he had fallen into. He shook his head. "Of course— I'll be just fine," he reassured. "Don't worry about me, okay? Please? I'll be perfectly okay, don't even waste a second with that." His smile turned down into a frown, and he bounced the question back. "The more important question is: will _you_ be okay?"

He thought that Hiro wouldn't reply. Like he usually did with questions that were far too close to home.

But it turns out that was just what Tadashi would _rather_ have had him do.

Because, at the question, Hiro looked up and gave a minimal shrug. "It doesn't matter anymore."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Coming back to school after a break was always interesting at the very least. People would see you and say hello— ask what you had gotten yourself into without the barrier of school in the way. Maybe they would point out a new haircut you had gotten and praised it. Or, if they were really annoying, they would declare they liked your old one better, making you feel self-conscious for the rest of the day. Whatever happened, it was usually interesting. More so than just regular every day-after-day school.

But it was even more interesting for you when the entire school was getting back after a nearly two-month long pause, after the school did an entire shut-down. It was even _more_ interesting for you when you were part of the _reason_ that the school was shut down, and a teacher was fired. And the icing was put on the cake when you were _also_ gone for the first two days of the new semester. To be honest, that was probably _the most_ interesting that school got.

Or maybe Homecoming was more interesting— some guy broke his arm there last year. It was this whole _thing_.

The only actual thing that Tadashi knew, though, was that _everyone_ was staring at him. And when he said everyone, he absolutely meant it. He felt like he was on fire underneath everyone's stares. Other students, teachers, janitors, you name it. He even passed a postman on the way in, and even _he_ turned to watch him go. Tadashi was gripping his bag so hard that his knuckles were bleached white, and every step he took was quicker than normal, and rushed. Whenever he saw someone start to turn and head his way, he broke into a run and outpaced them before they could catch up.

Even then, he was still forced to hear the murmurs of conversation that followed him like a shadow.

Tadashi had almost made it halfway across campus before he was stopped. He probably could have made it away from them, if they hadn't ran up behind him. And smacked into him with enough force to completely topple the both of them over. And hadn't pinned him down to the ground and screamed in his ear. " _Tadashi Hamada_!" they screeched, and Tadashi immediately scowled in recognition at the voice. " _You have so much explaining to do, it's not even funny! I was six minutes away from going to your house and knocking down the establishment, brick by brick_!"

He didn't even turn his head, so his words were grumbled down into the sidewalk. "Get off of me."

" _Tell me your secrets_!"

"Fred, get off of him!"

Fred gave out a dramatic groan, but he followed orders. He turned and rolled off of Tadashi, who pushed himself up with a growl. Gogo, Honey Lemon, and Wasabi were rushing up from down the campus, frazzled and out of breath. Tadashi stood up along with Fred, who more or less just jumped up to see how high he could get. And while he turned and dusted himself off, the others slowly came to a stop a few feet away. Gogo, who had been the one to yell in the first place, put her hands on her hips and leaned forward a bit. It was clear by the look on her face that she was more than cross. "Where in the world have _you_ been!?" she demanded, not even giving him a chance to go on before she did. "We've been calling you every day, and we even went up to your house a couple days ago, and all the lights were off! It was like you vanished off the face of the earth, and there was no way we could find you!"

Her voice was angry, and in a way, that was perfectly called for. But underneath the initial layer of irritation, there was that worry and concern that was hiding in her eyes as well. She locked her jaw backwards a bit and watched Tadashi straighten out his clothes. He did so carefully, each movement slow and calculating. It was as if he suddenly _did_ care what he looked like, when just this morning he had dragged himself out of bed and hardly stopped to brush his hair. He didn't address any of her questions. He was silent as he painstakingly fussed at himself. In sensing this hesitation, Gogo shifted a little uneasily before offering out a mumble of: "I thought you said you got your hat back."

"I did," Tadashi sighed, not really looking up to meet her gaze.

She pursed her lips a little bit. "How come you're not wearing it?"

He ignored the question, finding that it was easier to do so. Honey Lemon noticed this pause, and the tension that was brought with it. Her friend's stare was weighted down and hollow, and she frowned as she realized that his hands were starting to shake a bit when they moved. "Tadashi?" she asked. Her concern was gradually spreading to the others. Tadashi stopped moving, but took instead just to staring blankly down at the grass. She took a small step forward and tilted her head to the side. "Is everything alright?"

Tadashi still didn't reply. He couldn't bring himself to. Because, in a way, that would be the final nail in the coffin. It would be him admitting that what happened _had_ actually happened. Once it slipped past his tongue, there was no running away from it. There was no hiding from it, or pretending that everything was fine. It was like he would drop an anchor that would be much too hard to hoist back up off the ground. So he kept his mouth shut tight, chewing down on his bottom lip so hard he was afraid that soon enough, he would taste the metallic tang of blood.

Honey Lemon's shoulders drooped. She looked at her friend closely in silence.

Wasabi took a step forward. "Something happened," he stated, not really asking a question so much as he was relaying a fact. Tadashi ducked his head a little bit more. "Didn't it?" Wasabi pressed. His next class had started ten minutes ago, and he was never one to be even a second late to any lesson. But he wasn't about to leave anytime soon, and he didn't even want to at the moment. He just looked at Tadashi, starting to feel that renewed sense of fear curl itself into being at the bottom of his stomach. "Something…with Hiro?"

Tadashi reached up and rubbed at his forehead. He had the words— it wasn't that he didn't know what to say. They were there, and he could taste the bitter tang that came along with them. It was just putting sound behind them, and speaking up enough to be heard and to drape those words across this gap…that was what was hardest. That was when he was at a loss of what to do. He did manage to get out a single word. One that came across as more of a gasp than anything else. "Yeah." It was nothing but a sharp inhale, but he was almost prepared to be grateful that anything came out at all.

Fred was sobered by now. The gravity of the situation had come to rest on all of them now, even though they didn't fully understand. The need to know was there as it was, and so Fred stuffed his hands down into his pockets and leaned forward so that he could try and catch his friend's gaze. No such luck occurred to him in the effort, but he dismissed it pretty easily. "What happened?" he prodded. "Do you…do you want to talk about it?" He sidled over so that his shoulder could bump gently against Tadashi's. "We're always here for ya, buddy. In case you need it."

Tadashi opened his mouth and tried. But nothing was able to breach the barrier that his mind was still keeping up.

"What happened?" Gogo continued to push. "Is he okay?"

The question was enough to tip the scale. It toppled Tadashi right over the edge, because he wasn't sure what his answer should be when it came to that question. He took in one more breath that rattled down to his lungs, and the words that were suddenly so impossible to get out before, now rushed out far too quickly. They were almost too messy and rushed to make sense of. But they were there nonetheless. They rolled off his tongue and into the space that was between all of them, which, suddenly, seemed much too small to contain all the weight that they had to offer. "He tried to kill himself."

They didn't understand it at first. The reaction came quick, but they didn't understand.

Gogo stiffened, and her eyes flew wide with shock and anger. "What!?" she blustered. "Seriously?!"

Fred scowled and jabbed a finger into the air. "What a jerk! He's just avoiding justice!"

Honey Lemon seemed less sure that she was able to follow. Her forehead creased over, and her lips pulled down into a frown. "Callaghan did?" she asked. In front of her, her hands were wringing together compulsively. "I can't believe it…who told you?"

Wasabi seemed to be the only person in the group that was realizing what Tadashi had really meant. Or maybe he was just dreading it, but was the difference, really? He turned and glanced at all of his friends, who were naturally leaning on what was the better outcome of those five words. "Guys." The word was flat, and it was obviously a warning for them not to go on any further. Gogo glanced over at him in confusion for a heartbeat, but then her eyes flashed with recognition. She turned back to Tadashi, noticing his exhausted expression and his stooped shoulders. She sharpened with alarm, and started to open her mouth to say something. Thankfully, though, Tadashi finally scrounged up enough courage to continue. She didn't have to ask the question.

"No, not Callaghan. Hiro." The others instantly shut up as their inward fears were recognized. Honey Lemon gasped softly and her hand rose up to clap over her mouth. Tadashi grimaced and rubbed at his face again. The more he continued, the more choked-up his voice came out to be. "I found him the morning of the first day of school. He…his wheelchair was rammed up against the door. I guess he…I guess he just took the rest of his— his uh, sleeping pills. The whole bottle was empty."

He had thought that something major would happen once the words were to get out of his mouth. He thought that something would change. That the world would stand still, and the weight of his message would crush anything and everything around him. But none of that happened. The only thing that happened was that the expressions on his friends' faces were suddenly much, much different. And they were staying that way. There was silence for a while. He supposed that he couldn't be angry for it. He hadn't known what to say, either. He still didn't, really.

He coughed in the back of his throat to clear it. The grimace was still deep across his face. "We had to take him to the hospital. I mean…I mean, he'd said to me before that he was…that he was _tired_ of everything. I just didn't…I guess I hadn't wanted to see what he really meant." He looked up at his friends, and they each wilted just a little bit at the raw pain that was in his gaze. "He was starting to do better. He had fun at Christmas. Just…the police had to come and ask him questions, and they were really not all that…" He trailed off and had to collect himself before going on. Otherwise he would probably have just fallen apart. So he took in a shaking breath before continuing. "He just went into this downward spiral. He wouldn't talk, he wouldn't eat, he wouldn't…"

Tadashi finally settled with a shrug and a soft: "He just…tried to kill himself."

Silence reigned for who knows how long. By this point, they were all probably late to class. But everyone was as still as stone. Honey Lemon was the first to break the silence, and it was the predictable question that would come from her. "Is he alright now? He's not…?" She couldn't finish the question. But it was alright, because Tadashi didn't want her to.

"He's at some kind of a mental help hospital now." The words were a heavy sigh. "The hospital said that would be the best place to put him. But…we don't know when he'll be able to come back. He was really shaken up when we left." He ran a hand through his hair, remembered himself, and added on: "I left my hat with him. I told him he could keep it if he wanted to." Still, everyone was silent, and now it was starting to dig underneath his skin. So eventually he drew the line and shut his eyes tightly. He waved one hand in an almost dismissive manner. "But. Yeah. I'm— I'm sorry I didn't answer the phone. Or call. I just…"

"No, don't worry about it." Gogo was quick to interject. She bit down on her lower lip for a few moments. Then, her expression crumbled, and tilted her head to look a little bit closer at her friend. "Are you okay?" she asked. With this, her voice was definitely softer than it was before. "How are you and Aunt Cass doing?"

He shrugged. "As good as we can be, I guess. It's…it's definitely hard. I think Aunt Cass is having a hard time with…you know, with figuring out how to pay for everything. I think I'm going to give her all the money I've saved up over the years. But who knows how far that'll go in the grand scheme of things."

"Do you want some help?" Fred asked instantly. "Because I—"

"No." He was interrupting before his friend could even get the offer out. "No, I don't want money from anyone. That's not what I want. I didn't even want to tell you guys anything in the first place, I just wanted to…" He closed his eyes again, trying to focus only on the dim blackness that was in front of him now. It was easier than focusing on anything else. But it was still difficult. "I just wanted to go to school." He meant to stop there— it would certainly have been easier for him just to stop there. But he didn't. He just kept going, and that was probably a huge mistake, and his voice continued to build and stack in terms of volume.

"I _just_ wanted to go to school," he repeated. "I just wanted to go to school, and I just wanted to be one of the normal students, and I just wanted to graduate, and I just wanted have a normal life, and I just wanted to be happy, and I _just wanted everything to be fine, and he had to go and_ not _listen to me and go Bot Fighting and now everything is ruined and there's nothing left for me to do but just stand here and watch everything happen because no matter what I do, it'll all go horribly wrong just because Hiro was too stupid to stop and listen to me when I told him not to—_ "

He couldn't finish. He couldn't finish, and it was a good thing he couldn't. At this point, everyone around them on campus was turning to look at him with huge eyes. Tadashi was already a freak show; now he had an avid audience. So he was thankful that Honey Lemon and Gogo both rushed forward in unison and hugged him tightly. They rushed forward so quickly that it took Tadashi's breath away. He choked, his eyes going wide as he felt the girls' arms clamp tightly around his midsection. He realized then that tears were hot and sticky down his face. His vision blurry, he simply took to staring straight ahead.

He could hear the whispers already starting around him. But what he was focused more on was the fact that Wasabi approached him and reached over to put a hand on his shoulder. At the same time, Fred joined in the hug as hard as he possibly could. "We're here for you, man," Wasabi murmured, his eyebrows raised as he surveyed the other. He was never one to lose his cool. Lately, that seemed to be all he was doing, and that was enough to make him more than livid. But he kept himself cool and just offered his friend a bracing nod. "We'll get through it."

Tadashi looked at him as if he didn't speak English, and had no idea what was coming out of his mouth. But after a heartbeat or more of thought, he cracked just the smallest of smiles before buckling down and ducking his head. He reached up to hold close to each and every one of his friends, trying to draw comfort from their normal lives, and their level-headedness. It was what he needed so desperately at the moment. And it was all his friends could really offer him, anyway. He took in a gasp and shook his head. "I didn't mean any of that," he said in a rush. "I didn't—"

"We know, Tadashi," Honey Lemon soothed at once. "Of course not."

"It'll be okay," Gogo chimed in. "Everything is almost over."

Tadashi sniffed. He choked back another swallow before he managed a small: "I just miss him." He missed him. And that didn't mean just now. It meant everything. He missed his smile, and his laugh. He missed waking up at night and seeing that Hiro was still sitting at his computer, even though it was four in the morning. He missed running down for dinner to get the best seat, even though they always ended up sitting in the same chairs. He missed _Hiro_ in general. He wanted him back. That's all he wanted.

Fred blew out a raspberry, trying to lighten the mood. "We all do! But he'll come back! And it'll all be just fine!"

He sighed, beginning to feel better. Or at least, not as bad as before. In taking a few calming breaths and waiting for his heart to still a bit more, he began to come back to himself and regret the fact that he had lost track of himself so completely. But at the same time, he still couldn't rip himself away from the regret that was under his skin. Too much regret to remember and keep track of, really. So he just uselessly mumbled his words again, feeling so much like a broken record. "I just miss him."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He could hear them. They were trying to be discreet, and he was willing to give them enough props for that. But it was hard to do when it was all for naught anyway. Because they were like nails against his eardrums. Like chalk screeching down a board. Every scattered whisper through the room seemed to beeline straight for him. It was enough that he just stared down at his desk and tried to focus on the wood grains that were in front of him, and not cave in enough to cringe or flinch down into himself. He remained grounded. He remained sane. Which was a far bigger accomplishment than it really should have been.

"See him? He looks like crap."

"Poor guy."

"I never really got to know him. But still."

"Did you hear? Apparently Callaghan forced his brother to call him 'Dad.'"

" _I_ heard he forced him to do much _worse_ , if you know what I mean."

"Did you hear what happened a few _mornings ago_ , though?"

"He looks like he's crying."

"It's crazy. Insane."

"At least we got like...an extra month's vacation for it, right?"

"This sucks. This whole thing sucks."

" _He_ used to stand _right up there_ lecturing, _every day_. And no one was the wiser."

"You think Tadashi would mind talking about it? Because _I heard_ that—"

"Mister Hamada?" He jumped nearly out of his skin at his name. For a heart stopping moment, he thought that he could hear the familiar ring of Callaghan's voice echoing over to him. That was the same way that he used to be addressed by him. His tongue almost reflexed back into making the 'C' sound, for how he usually replied instantly. But he managed to stop himself. He just looked up from the table with round eyes, at the person standing across from him that was definitely not Professor Callaghan.

Though it was the same class.

It was the same class, and it was the same room, and Tadashi was sitting at his same chair. The only thing that was different was the woman that was now standing where Callaghan always did. Her curly hair seemed to go in every direction, and her glasses seemed a little too pointed at the ends of them. She seemed a little uncertain as she looked over at Tadashi, who instantly flushed over with embarrassment as he realized that the whispers were still continuing around him. He tried to straighten up just a little bit. "I'm…I'm sorry…what?" he asked, his voice coming out hollow. "I wasn't…I'm sorry, I just wasn't paying attention. I apologize."

"Why is he even _here_?"

"Shouldn't he be home right now?"

"He looks like he's aged about ten years. It's weird."

"I would have thought he would have dropped this class."

This time he couldn't keep himself from wincing away from the floating whispers.

The woman seemed a little frustrated at the apology, despite how heartfelt it really was. For the life of him, he couldn't seem to remember how she had introduced herself, so he was relieved to find that she had written it on the board. Mrs. Barker. "I asked you if you could pick up where we left off," she repeated. She seemed to be trying to show patience, but there wasn't a lot in the reservoir. "But now I see you don't even have your textbook out to follow along with."

Textbook? Dumbly, he turned and looked down at his bag. They had a _textbook_? They had _never_ used that. Not in class, at least. It was all just for review and things like that. In class, it was always fun lectures, and projects, and interactive learning. It wasn't…it wasn't _reading from a textbook._ "I'm— I'm sorry, we never…" He was scrambling to try and pick himself up. "I'm not used to having a textbook in class," he laughed, trying to pass off something as a joke. It came out more like a wheeze, though.

Mrs. Barker didn't laugh along, though. "We have been using them for the past thirty minutes," she said. Kindly, though it still seemed to hold a kind of sting to it. Tadashi wasn't sure what else he was supposed to say. His mouth kind of ran dry, and he decided to just shut up and stare at her. In a way, that decision might have somehow found a way to make the situation even worse.

Mrs. Barker hesitated for a moment and looked around. It seemed to slowly dawn on her that little to no one was _actually_ paying attention. She wasn't deaf; she could hear the whispers just as clearly as anything else. She soured just a little bit and started to say something. "If everyone could please pay attention," she huffed angrily. "I realize that this isn't the most exciting of lessons, and I acknowledge the reason why I am standing here in front of you." The class chittered just a little bit more at this. Obviously, it wasn't going the way she had wanted it to. "But you need to realize that—"

She couldn't finish. Class was up, and the second that the clock hand gave its last tick, the anxious students immediately shot up to their feet. They booked it for the door, not eager at all to stop and watch this unfold. Those who had actually been paying attention, and found this whole thing even worse, were the first out the door. Everyone else followed, and Tadashi was keen on following suit. Maybe in his next class, there would be less whispering, and he would be able to focus on something other than the fact that Callaghan had stood there in front of him every day, and he had been totally blind.

But as he made a beeline for the door, he was stopped. "Mister Hamada."

He cringed, and the grip on his bag tightened a bit. Inwardly, he debated just pretending that he hadn't heard her. But he knew better than to make such a mistake, so he turned back a little regretfully. "Yes?" he asked, trying his best not to show the anxiety he experienced as Mrs. Barker took a few paces closer to him. He figured that she was going to get cross at him for not listening, so he caved quickly to try and make up for it. He wanted to leave as soon as he could. "I'm sorry for not paying attention. It's not— it's not really the best first impression." Again, the joke fell flat. He tried again. "I know that it was rude, and I'll be sure not to let it happen again."

Mrs. Barker looked at him carefully. "Tadashi, I cannot imagine what your family is going through," she said, Tadashi stiffening with a little bit of surprise. "If you would ever like to leave class in order to go and speak to a counselor, I would be more than happy to permit you to do just that." Tadashi started to open his mouth and say a profuse thank you, but it was too late. She swept on, and Tadashi immediately snapped it closed again. "But the class was noticeably distracted today, as you were as well. I cannot have that."

He blanched. It took him a second to realize what she meant, and he tried to stumble along. "Well…I-I mean, you can't really—"

"I ask that if you need some time, which is perfectly understandable, that you go to a counselor or maybe the Welcome Center. But I do need to try and continue on where this class left off as best as I possibly can. You can understand why I would want that, don't you?"

He blinked a few times, completely silent. Eventually he rasped a small: "Yeah. Yeah— sure."

She smiled and gave a small nod. "Alright, then. I'm glad you can."

He repeated the dumb nodding gesture. It was all he could manage.

Mrs. Barker turned and started back to her desk. "That was all I needed, Mister Hamada," she dismissed. "I'll see you Friday. I wish you the best of luck until then."

He wasn't sure what that meant. He wasn't sure what that entire exchange meant, really. He lingered for a little bit longer in the doorway, just looking at the replacement that had come for the teacher that had single-handedly ruined his entire world. At the replacement that just had the gall to basically dismiss his situation. He swallowed and turned, glancing towards the hall. "Okay," he mumbled under his breath. "Yeah. I'll…I'll see you," he rasped.

She was rummaging in her bag. She didn't even look over his way. "Have a good night, Tadashi."

"….Yeah," he whispered again. He hesitated one last time and turned back to look at her. She didn't move. So he turned and stumbled out in the hall. He closed the door behind him and gazed blankly at the hall that was now in front of him. At the people that were milling by and trying to be discreet in their staring right back at him. He stood there for who knows how long, just studying the wall across from him. Until he robotically began to move his legs and turn for his next class. Not even focusing on where he was going.

Just wandering.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"I think I want to change my major," he blurted out.

Cass looked up from her plate, immediately looking shocked and concerned. "You want to change?" she asked. Tadashi nodded once, but didn't look up from his plate. He was studying his potatoes as if they were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. His aunt wilted in her seat, slouching over a little bit. "But I thought you _loved_ Robotics," she said. "It was why you decided to go to the Institute in the first place. It's what you've wanted to do ever since you were little!"

Tadashi moved to hold his head up with one hand. He shrugged a single shoulder. "I just don't like it anymore," he tried weakly. "It's not fun. It's not…" He couldn't finish. So he restarted instead. "The new teacher is awful, too. Everyone hates her." Two weeks, and she was still insufferable, just reading from the textbook routinely day in and day out. It was a lame excuse to bring up, but it was the one he was falling back on. "I don't know. I was thinking of going into Chemistry instead. You know? It seems…it seems interesting." The comment lacked any real excitement. "And…if I'm bad at it, I already asked Honey Lemon if she'd help me."

Aunt Cass was silent for a moment. He was trying to ignore her heartbroken stare, but it was pretty hard. When she spoke up after a while, he also tried to ignore how choked she sounded. "And she said she would?"

He nodded. "Well, yeah. She said she would do whatever I wanted her to. And I think it might be interesting."

Another pause. Then, came a soft: "Chemistry. You want…you want to go into Chemistry?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I think I would like it much more."

Aunt Cass grimaced. "There's not much going back from a major switch, Tadashi. I think you should really reconsider. You're such a smart kid— and you've loved building things since you could walk!" When her nephew didn't look up at her, she mumbled out a distressed noise. She reached up and ran a hand through her hair, which was already far messier than it normally was. "You shouldn't let all of this affect you this much, honey. Not enough to take away the future you've wanted for so long," she said gently. "I know you'll be great at Robotics, Tadashi. I know it's hard right _now_ , but…" She didn't finish. She didn't need to. She could tell that it was falling on deaf ears.

He sighed through his nose and glanced over to the side. "Maybe," he grumbled. "But…you know. It's just what I'm thinking of doing." He turned and pushed his plate of food aside. "I'm not really hungry. I'm sorry. I think…I'll just go to bed."

"Okay," Aunt Cass whispered, watching him heavily. "If you're sure."

"I am," he replied. He pushed himself up from his chair, and weaved around the table so that he could lean over and peck Aunt Cass on the cheek. "Goodnight," he said, already turning away for the stairs. Aunt Cass didn't reply; she just turned in her chair and watched him leave. Her expression was sorrowful as it tracked him along. She waited for that empty loneliness she usually felt whenever they parted ways to go to sleep, and she was left all by herself.

But funnily enough, the feeling that settled over her wasn't any different from the one she had felt all during dinner that night.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"This exchange is usually set up for victims to get some sort of closure. I'm glad you've chosen to come. I'm sure it'll mean quite a lot." The woman turned and looked over at Tadashi brightly, a smile on her face. He didn't react to her though— he just turned and checked his phone. Aunt Cass was under the impression that he was studying at school right now. He had to get back before too long, otherwise he would be questioned. Already, he was starting to regret coming all this way. Doing… _this_. He knew that it was a long time coming, but still. Facing it was still more than impossible.

He didn't know who this was, really. He had been pointed down to her number by Officer Hadley, who he had visited the other day for this sole reason. To find out how to do _this_. Because he wanted to do this. If only briefly. Or maybe it was more of a need. She was _someone_ in this whole case. Maybe she was the attorney that was against Callaghan, or maybe she was the attorney that was fighting for him. Or for an easier prison sentence, that was. He didn't really care. Not at the moment, anyway. All he cared about was where he was going.

They were walking down a long hallway, that seemed colored in a sickly kind of light. Tadashi was trailing a few steps behind the woman, and beside him walked Honey Lemon. She was the first person he had thought of to bring along, and she of course had said she would. Moral support, or something along those lines. He wasn't sure why his mind had floated to her when he had looked for such a thing. He figured maybe it was because she was the most sympathetic of the group. But at the same time, he wondered whether it was because, on the first night he had told Callaghan about his little brother, she had been there too. Somehow, she was connected with all of this, just like he was. She had joined in the encouragement with Hiro, if only a few simple words.

It wasn't blame, he was putting on her. Just some kind of kinship in the situation.

"He'll be waiting in the cafeteria. But don't worry— it's all cleared for you," she reassured him, turning back to offer him a small smile. "With him being on Remand, he does have more than the usual amount of visitation rights as it is." Honey Lemon flashed Tadashi a worried look. Clearly, she was regretting this decision just as much as he was— she was just showing it a little bit more openly. "So…when you made this request, it wasn't too hard a thing to set up."

"And what did he say when he heard I wanted to see him?" Tadashi asked, his voice a rasp.

"He was excited." This response was a little bit softer than the rest. Her smile dropped a little bit, too. Honey Lemon reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, eyeing the prison around her with sharp concern. They walked the rest of the way in silence until they reached a door. She glanced back at them and raised her eyebrows. "Now, let's remind ourselves to be clear," she said, already ready to repeat herself for the third time. Honey Lemon nodded, but Tadashi was staring straight past, into the cafeteria that was beyond her. He wasn't paying attention at all. "That this is nothing but a visit. There will be no harm to anyone at all. This is a very common practice, and it'll be one that will hopefully bring some sort of peace to you."

Tadashi roused just enough to give a nod.

Honey Lemon deflated, like a balloon that was losing all its air.

The woman stepped to the side finally and pushed open the door. Tadashi thought that when she finally allowed entrance, he would feel some cold-hearted sense of rage and anger. He'd be seething with rage and burst inside to instantly create a scene. But all that he felt was confusion and doubt. Because in the center of the room in front of him, sitting neatly at one of the tables that were scattered about, was his old professor.

Callaghan was sitting neatly at one of the tables, his hands and his ankles bound together by chains. There was security standing near him, already watching him with enough attention to set him on fire. At Tadashi and Honey Lemon's slow entrance, Callaghan instantly stiffened and fixed them with a look that displayed nothing but extreme hunger. Instantly, Tadashi's stomach seized with horror at the sight of the man he used to look up to. He looked awful. He looked thinner, and weaker. He had the hint of a beard growing across his face, and the prison uniform he was wearing seemed to swim on him.

He looked like a ghost of his former self.

Just like Hiro did.

Slowly, Tadashi led the way inside. Honey Lemon tiptoed after. They walked silently up the table, and once they reached it, they did not sit. Rather, they just stood and stared at the teacher they used to know. Of course, Honey Lemon hadn't known him like Tadashi had. She just used to spend so much time in her friend's lab, she would get to know the man just by his constant stopping by. It was enough that even she looked alarmed by who was now in front of her. They both searched for something to say. Obviously Honey Lemon wasn't much help in that department. Tadashi landed on the first thing he could manage. It wasn't a lot, though. It was just the simple mumble of: "Callaghan."

He just looked up at him, his hungry stare not budging in the slightest. "How is he?" he demanded, the words coming out splintered and urgent. Tadashi turned and looked over at Honey Lemon, who was biting down on her lower lip. Still refusing to sit down, Tadashi concentrated on clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides. At his silence, though, Callaghan only grew more anxious. He looked from Tadashi to Honey Lemon, his stare fit to kill. "Is he okay? Does he miss me? Does he need me? He _does_ , doesn't he? He was _taken_ from me!" By now he was yelling. One of the guards started to inch a little bit closer.

Tadashi finally got ahold of himself. He scowled and locked his jaw backwards as anger began to crowd into his eyes. "You can't ask about him," he growled, the words coming out through his clenched teeth. Callaghan slowly began to glare at him in reply, but Tadashi wasn't even close to caring by this point. He could literally feel his emotions begin to get the better of him. Any other situation, and he would have stopped to try and calm himself down before going on. Not right now, though. "You don't have _any_ right to even _think_ about him."

Callaghan soured. He didn't say anything.

Tadashi seemed far too worked-up to say anything more for the moment. So, to his utter shock and surprise, at his side, Honey Lemon took charge. She spoke up, and even though her voice was soft and quiet, there was a hidden spark of disappointment and anger in each syllable. "Why did you do it?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. "Why on earth would you do something so horrible and terrible? Do you _still_ not even realize how much you've hurt him?"

"He needs me," Callaghan repeated harshly. It was like he hadn't even heard her accusation. "He _needs_ me; he _told_ me that." He turned his stare back over to Tadashi, who went rigid underneath it. "He _needed_ me, and he _loved_ me, and you took him away." Tadashi was gritting his teeth so hard by now, that his head was throbbing in pain. "If you hadn't come along, he would have been _happy_. We could have had a life that was _perfect_. _We_ could have been happy, and we could have been a _family_." He took in a gasp before he started to yell. "I could have had it again! I was _this_ close! He was calling me 'Dad!' He was telling me he loved me!"

Tadashi took a small step forward. "You stole him from us!" Despite how much he was trying to yell, the ferocity of his voice was off-put by just how strained it was. "You stole him from us and kept him in your house! For a year, you _tortured_ him!" By now, it was clear that nobody outside of the trio wanted this to continue. The guards were taking small step by small step forward, cautiously wanting to intervene and shut the whole thing down. Even Honey Lemon, at this point, was starting to wish that they would do just that. Because it was clear that Tadashi wasn't getting any closure— so much as he was getting the opposite. "He tried to kill himself, did you hear about that!? He would rather have _died_ than live with what _you_ put him through!"

Callaghan was silent. Honey Lemon couldn't tell whether or not the news affected him in any way. Until, barely able to be heard, he asked a small: "Is he okay?"

" _You don't get to ask that_!" Tadashi screamed, leaning forward to slam his hands down on the table with his cry. He was overworked and crying; he couldn't stop himself by now. " _You don't get to be worried, and you don't get to care! You_ never _should have been given that chance, don't you understand!?_ " His breathing was haywire now. Sharp inhales in, and wavering huffs out.

For a second, he grappled with what else to say. When he finally landed on something, he sounded much more tired. "You…I looked up to you." His voice was heartbroken— snapped into little splinters. "I wanted to _be_ you. I…I wanted…" Words didn't seem to be doing it for him. Whatever he could draw forth, it didn't seem to _be_ enough. Would it…would it _ever_ be enough? "I _wanted_ to believe in you. I thought…I tried to trust you. At first when I thought it might have been you…I tried to fight it. But…but now…" He closed his eyes tightly. Trying to shut something out— anything he possibly could.

The confession slipped out of his lips in nothing but an exhausted exhale. "You were the best man I had ever met. You were…like a father to me." He could hear the air conditioning overhead. He could hear a bird chirping from somewhere on the other side of the concrete wall. He could hear Honey Lemon's pressured breathing near his ear, and he could hear every little sound that was around them. If he dropped a pen, he would go deaf from its volume. He could see the floor beneath him blur and warp through a screen of tears. He shook his head. "And…and you have… _no_ idea…how much that hurts," he croaked.

He slowly raised his head. He looked over at Callaghan. At the man who he had idolized since the very beginning. That Hiro probably had as well. Maybe not in the same way, but…it was enough. If Tadashi felt bad right now, there was no telling how he had felt those twelve months. How he _still_ felt. Maybe that was part of what had fueled him to choke down those pills. "Do you even care?" he rasped out. He waited for some spark of emotion in Callaghan's gaze. Some regret at what was in front of him. Or some sorrow at what had occurred. But there was nothing. It was cold. And it was unfeeling. "Do you even care about what you've done to _any_ of us?"

Callaghan just stared at him. He was silent for what felt like forever. But then: "You _need_ to bring him back to me," he stressed. Tadashi's eyes widened. He took a step backwards, and by the look on his face, he might as well have been punched across the face. Despite this, he pushed: "I need to see him again. _Please_ let me see him. I _need_ to see him. I need to _hold_ him. You _can't_ keep him away from me. He loves me."

Tadashi was tired. He couldn't keep this up. It was too hard. So he glanced down the floor and took in a slow breath. He closed his eyes. Then he opened them again. He turned away, moving like a robot that was low on battery charge. And then he looked over at Honey Lemon, who stared just as harrowingly back at him. "We need to leave," he whispered out. "We can't stay here." Honey Lemon gave a small nod. But she didn't understand. Not fully. She was an outsider to this. He had come in thinking the opposite. But there was no denying it now.

It was as clear as the look on her face. And just as gut-wrenching.

He felt his lower lip tremble. And he felt his chest tighten and become hot. He looked away to try and hide these facts, and when he did, he wavered out a slightly high-pitched: "I can't stay here." He shook his head again. "I can't stay here, Honey Lemon."

She nodded immediately. "We can go," she replied at once. "Let's go. C'mon."

The woman from before took a few steps towards them. She looked far more than concerned by now. "I wouldn't advise you to leave just now. You can—"

Honey Lemon fluffed up defensively. She shook her head and reached over, grabbing on to Tadashi's hand in a way that showed finality. "No, we're going to leave." Her voice was harsh and mean now. She rarely ever got this angry or pent-up. Normally she was the last person to get angry. But now, she was tugging Tadashi along, steering them out of the cafeteria and out the way that they had come. To get their things that they had had to turn before coming into the prison, all the while ignoring the woman that trailed behind them pointlessly.

She wore a deep scowl, and the frown stayed there permanently until they finally broke out of the prison and out into the world that had been sealed away. It was much brighter outside; it looked peaceful and bright, if you did not turn back and look at the building that loomed behind them. At first, Tadashi did not let go of her hand, and she did not be the first to break the connection. He just stood there, staring at everything in front of him as if he was in a daze.

When he did let go of her hand, it was only to sink down low. He sat with a thud on the sidewalk, curling his legs up to his chest and ducking his head down a bit. He held either side of it, concentrating on breathing in and out, especially after their near-run out of the prison. Honey Lemon just watched him, silent and tight-lipped. After a second or two she resigned to turn and sit down beside him, cross-legged and quiet. She looked down into her lap, her lips pursed together.

It was ages before she was brave enough to speak. She turned to look at her friend, pained by the expression across his face. "You okay?" she asked, in nothing but a mumble.

He didn't say anything at first. Then, he sighed. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. "For dragging you here. F-For…coming here at all. We shouldn't have…" He sighed and shook his head again. It was all he could do, it felt like. "We shouldn't have come," he got out. "We should have just stayed home, we should have just…" He grimaced. He reached up and scrubbed at his face, feeling exhausted. He just wanted to lay down and sleep for a year. To never get up and never have to face anything ever again.

Was that what Hiro felt like? Right before he…?

He exhaled slowly. "He should have just stayed home…" Tadashi whispered.

Honey Lemon reached over to rub his back comfortingly, trying to keep level herself. "You want to sit here a little bit longer?" she asked. "We don't have to leave right this second."

"Yes," he grumbled. "Yes, we do. We have to…we have to get back."

She hesitated. Then, brightly said: "We don't have to tell her. Aunt Cass, I mean."

Tadashi nodded. "Yeah. She…she wouldn't like it."

Silence again. Honey Lemon stared at the ground. Contemplating. Then she turned, looking over at Tadashi with a stare that weighed to crush him flat to the floor. "That isn't what you wanted to happen…is it?" When he didn't say anything at first, she asked: "Are you…alright?"

He turned and set his chin down on the tops of his knees. His eyes were raw, and he reached up quickly to try and rub them clear. He coughed, trying to do the same with his lungs. Or maybe it was just to fill the silence. Nevertheless, it almost echoed in the tension between them. Tadashi looked off into space for a while, but then a smile slowly twitched over his face. It didn't reach his eyes, and when he opened his mouth to give out a laugh, that came across as forced and hollow, too.

Rather than genuine, the laugh was bitter and stale. Tasteless and lacking of any real emotion. It just made him seem that much sadder. And at it, Honey Lemon slouched over even more. He didn't pay mind to it, though. He just laughed and waved a dismissive hand. "I was stupid," he said ruefully. Tadashi turned and looked at her— at her puzzled and bewildered expression that mimicked what he had felt like this entire time, really. And he gave another pointless shrug. "I don't even know what I expected in the first place."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He sat there for a moment or two, not at all sure how he was supposed to react. Should he be happy? Disgusted? Offended? He felt like it should be one of the last two at the very least. But at first, he could only feel confusion and awkwardness at what he had been handed. Dean Tanaka looked calmly his way, his hands clenched together tightly in front of him. His lips were just as pressed, and after a while, he cleared his throat and broke the silence in between them. "Do you understand what I'm offering you?" he prompted gently.

Tadashi reached up to press his hand against the side of his head. "I…I guess so," he got out. "I don't…I don't understand why, though."

He attempted to offer the boy a smile. "Well, the college thinks that it's only fair we offer you some sort of relief," he said. "So we're going to remove any outstanding fines that you have and may have later on during your career here. And you are going to be reimbursed of course for any payments you may have already had." Tadashi started to say something, but Dean Tanaka went on before he could. "And if your aunt finds any other difficulty, she can feel free to contact us here. We will do all we can to help."

Tadashi glanced down at the floor, uncertain. He swallowed the information slowly, bite by slow bite. Like what had just been said was actually a steak that was too tough to break down. "You're…going to pay all my college fees?" He asked for this clarification, when it really wasn't needed. Because that was why he had been summoned all the way to the Dean's office to his shock during lunch. It was why he had sat down in this too-plush chair, and it was why he had just had a fifteen-minute-long conversation with someone who he had seen maybe once before in all his days at college.

Dean Tanaka nodded. "That's right. Every single penny is now being taken care of for you and your family."

"My….family," Tadashi repeated slowly.

"Right." It was clear by this point that Tanaka was growing uncomfortable. "We're just trying to right some wrongs that were done. By making this at least one less thing to—"

"Paying off my college fees won't help my brother." Anger and indignation began to leak into Tadashi's voice with these words. There was a sharpness to his reply, and even though he knew that he shouldn't be angry, he was anyway. He should have been grateful for such a gift, and in any other situation, he would have been worlds so. But now, all he could feel was repulsion by the cheap effort. So he ignored the shock that flared over the other's expression and just went on. "My brother tried to commit _suicide_ because of what happened. He _suffered_ for a _year_." His voice was gradually escalating in not only anger, but volume as well. "I haven't seen him in weeks, or even heard how he's doing, and you want to make it all better by _paying me money_? _Me_?"

Rational thought was out the window, by now. Tadashi never had a habit of snapping. But he certainly couldn't stop himself right then.

Dean Tanaka had to recover quickly so he could reply. "Well, I think you know as well as I do that there was no predicting what had occurred here. I assure you that we will do anything and everything to help you and your brother alike, but at the same time, we cannot—"

"You know what, I think I'd better just go," Tadashi said, pushing away from the desk and standing up from his chair. It was the first time he had been inside of this grand office, and at the same time, he wished it to be the last. It was started to become suffocating. "I was eating lunch with my friends, and they'll wonder where I went. They have a habit of worrying. So thank you for calling me down. I _really_ appreciate it." The sharpness of his tone helped to make his speech less appealing or believable. He turned and grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder and starting to make for the door.

Tanaka seemed disappointed, but not surprised. "We'll send you an email," he called after the young man. "We'll give you as long as you need before deciding on whether or not you want to take the offer."

Tadashi didn't reply. He rushed for the door and leaned over, his teeth gnashed together as he grabbed the doorknob. But before he could, he was stopped. "Tadashi." He had to fight the urge to groan out loud. If he was any more of a rebel, he would have kept going. But he always ended up bowing to authority— it was the way he was raised. So he turned back to throw his gaze over his shoulder, to Tanaka. He was still sitting at his desk, with that sullen look on his face. "I heard a rumor you're thinking of switching majors," he announced.

Tadashi shifted. He had mentioned it to his counselor a while ago. He didn't know such a small thought could get this far on its own. He said nothing, but his silence was answer enough. Tanaka tilted his head over to the left. "I'm not sure how much my opinion matters to you at the moment, but I was very sad to hear that. I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you and what you have been doing so far in your field of study."

Tadashi just looked at him. He was frozen.

Tanaka continued. "You could have had a wonderful future."

Silence. At first, he was tempted to be touched by such high praise. But it fell out from under itself. Instead, Tadashi's jaw locked backwards, and his eyes narrowed. He felt again that surge of anger, and his grip on the doorknob in front of him tightened so that his knuckles turned white. And before he turned and stormed out of office, more than happy to never return, he threw out one last reply— the hardest snap he could manage. "My brother could have had a wonderful future too."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: Past me: I want to shorten chapters. It's easier and more balanced that way on all ends.

Present me, looking at a chapter that is 19 pages long: Well…shit.

I tried. Whatever. I hope you like it regardless. I've never been to college before, so I don't know how much of my time will be eaten up, but I will try my best to keep up with things. I hope you'll understand. Reviews are always a great motivator for me, since growing as a writer is mainly why I am writing on here.

I'm excited to write the other chapters in line for this story, though. After this last one the story will start to change and alter in mood, so that's fun. And next chapter, a character will reappear that I've been wanting to write again for quite some time. Maybe I can cram in one more chapter before college starts, but that's a hopeful goal. I do have other stories to write for, and I hope you'll understand. Like I said, reviews will help me slingshot back over here. It's just a lot to keep track of.

Anyway, thank you for reading and keeping up with things! I hope you all liked this chapter, and I hope to hear from you with your thoughts! As always, concerns or questions, I would be more than happy to PM and answer! I put more research into this chapter, what with the Remand system, so I hope I explained it well enough.


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Me: Since college starts soon, I should try and type as many chapters for as many stories as I possibly can. Absolutely no distractions— just keep typing.

Also me, who just remembered that free online Solitaire is a thing: Yeah, but in five more games.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

She was different now. Not different in a way that anyone else would notice. They were small changes— ones that were arguably not even important at all. But Hiro noticed them, because he noticed everything about her. He had no other choice, really. He had been trained to focus on every little aspect that made up _her_ , and so that was just what he was going to do. So he noticed how her hair was just a bit longer. How, at the very end, it was beginning to barely graze her shoulders. He noticed that she was just a tad bit taller, and he noticed how she seemed to hold herself up with a little bit more importance than before. She seemed more mature.

But was that because of _him_? Or was it because of _her_?

Abigail offered him a small smile. "You're doing much better," she pointed out in a gentle chirp.

Hiro blinked. For a second, he wasn't going to offer any kind of response. But then he turned away a little bit, coughing a little bit out of nervousness. "I am?" he asked. His eyes strayed over to the wall. To the picture frame that always hung there. Just to give himself something else to focus on. All the same, he did upkeep the conversation. It would be wrong not to, by this point. "I kinda feel it. But…it's kinda hard to keep track." It wasn't the best response. Usually when people complimented a person, they were supposed to show some gratitude. This thought occurred afterwards, and so he tried to make a move to right the wrong. "But, um…thanks. For noticing, I guess."

Abigail took a few steps closer to him. He was still looking at the pictures— the ones that he had memorized after a while. She leaned out over to the side, and her expression changed once she saw what held his attention. She looked happy at first. But then her features flickered, and she grew instead to look a little sad. Despite this, her voice was still cheery as she leaned over and pointed to one of the photos. "That was at the zoo," she grinned. It was a photo of her as a small seven-year-old, and she was holding a bunny in her arms that was nearly as big as her. "Dad told me I was too small to hold it, and that I would fall over backwards, but I was so stubborn. I told him I wanted to anyway, and he let me. Right he took the picture though—"

"The bunny kicked me in the stomach and made me smack back into the pen," Hiro finished for her, adopting that same expression that was a mixture of sorrow and fondness. Though his sadness was a bit deeper than hers. The girl smiled wide at his coinage. She didn't seem bothered at all. He blinked and tore his stare away from the photos, so that he could turn and look at her. He noticed that her hands were a little bit more calloused, as if she'd been working with them. "He tried to help me up, but…he was laughing too hard," Hiro completed. It didn't feel right to leave it without its ending.

"He was such a goofball," she laughed. "He was like that a lot."

Hiro's eyes flashed. He drew a little bit more into himself, and his next words came out with a soft sense of remorse. "Maybe with you, he was." The girl frowned a tad, then. Awkwardness sprung up between them, and even if she would have liked to refute the statement, she was unable to. Hiro felt guilty that he had brought up such a claim. He'd probably ruined their conversation. He crossed his arms over his chest, chewing down on his bottom lip. It went silent, then, but it wasn't the regular kind of silence that sprung up during lulls in conversation.

It was the kind that cropped up whenever there was far too much to say.

Abigail looked down at her hands, which were wringing together. After a while, she cleared her throat and turned to smile over in his direction. "You're doing much better." She repeated herself from earlier, but Hiro was alright with it. Maybe the more he heard it, the more he would believe it. So even though he was looking straight ahead, and even though he was wondering when he would be able to get back, he offered her a small smile. At this, she tilted her head to the side. "Don't you think so?"

Hiro blinked. He considered the question. Then: "Yeah. I guess so."

She was sobered. "But you feel guilty for it."

Silence again. It was a hot and stifling kind of silence that rubbed him the wrong way. So, blinking, he turned and looked down at the ground in between his feet. Just like the pictures and how they were arranged so neatly, he had memorized the way that the wood looked. He remembered each grain and warped appearance. His forehead creased over just a little bit in thought. Then he turned and looked back over at her. He smiled again. But this time it didn't reach his eyes. "It's just…strange," he tried. He could tell that she knew what he meant. Of course she did. He went on anyway, though. "How do I…?" He turned back front, having to stop and take in a breath that hissed down his lungs. "How do I… _move on_ …from a thing like _this_ in my life? When I'd already…when I'd already _accepted_ that it was all I had left?" His voice went a little bit higher on the last word.

Desperation and confusion usually had that effect.

She was unfaltering in her optimism. Not for the first time, he asked himself why he could not take after her in that aspect. "You already have," Abigail reassured sweetly. "You probably just haven't realized it yet. But you have. I'm sure of it." She reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "But I guess it doesn't matter what _I_ think. It's only about what you think." There was a small gap of quiet before she went on quickly. "Besides. You know that there's more. You've _seen_ it. It might be hard. And it might be a little scary. But most things in life that are worth getting _are_."

He sighed. He couldn't argue with her. He never could. But it didn't mean he couldn't _try_. "It's easy for you to say," he grumbled under his breath. His eyes narrowed a little bit, and he added: "It's easy for _everyone_ to say. But shouldn't _I_ be the only person allowed to say it?" She didn't answer the question. He figured it was easier that way. He looked back at her, and when he did, he realized that the hallway they had been standing in was gone. It was replaced instead with a room that was all too familiar, and that stabbed him through his chest.

Despite this, he didn't react. It was what always happened; the surprise was worn off by now. His eyes just flickered over the small room, noticing the same bookshelf and the same set of stairs off to the side. If he looked to the other side, he would see that computer desk, and maybe, if he looked hard enough at the floor, he would see the dark red stain he had left on the wood. He sighed again, and, without a single word, he lowered himself down with a small thud. She didn't move; she just watched him. But then she piped up, and she asked the question she always ended up asking. The question that was the hardest to face. "Do you miss him?"

He grimaced, as if the question caused him physical harm. He stayed on the floor sitting for a little bit. He drew his knees up to his chest and ran his hands through his hair. He had to concentrate on breathing for a little bit, to just try and make sure that he kept a level head. It took him a while to get himself focused, which was odd, considering he always replied in the exact same way. Which was to look up at her and just redirect the question back to her quietly. "Do _you_ miss him?"

The young girl wilted. The sorrow that came over her face was enough of a response.

But she would give one anyway. Hiro knew that.

He shifted to the side, feeling sick as he let himself slouch down to the floor. He laid down on his side, curling up close to himself in the way that he was used to. It was muscle memory, to revert back to this position. He stared over at the steps, in the exact same way that he passed every day down here. It was then that she replied, with the four words that always seemed to ring in his ears now. "He was my dad," she said simply.

He closed his eyes in a wince. For what felt like a lifetime, he stayed that way. He knew that when he opened his eyes, she would be gone. And sure enough, that was exactly the case. Nevertheless, in dark of the basement, he spoke up anyway. His voice was nothing more than a thin rasp, though. "Then why would you think my answer would be any different?"

She didn't say anything. She was gone. She always left before she could hear that question, so she always left before she could give him some kind of comfort. If she would even do such a thing; he wasn't sure. He knew what would happen next. It was always the same— always a routine. He stayed motionless on the floor of the basement, and in the background, he could hear rain start to pound against the roof. Hiro could remember what it was like to listen in on the weather outside. To hear rain and know that he couldn't go out and feel the water soak him from head to toe. Back in the house, it had made him cry to think of such a thing. But here, he was just numb.

He laid there and waited for himself to wake up. He would always wake up soon. So there was no point in trying to barter or push for anything else. He just stayed put where he was, listening to the rain and trying not to think of too much, or let his imagination go much too far. Time passed, and eventually, he felt it. He felt that there was someone sitting close beside him; he could feel their presence conjure up from absolutely nothing, until it was the only thing that Hiro could focus on.

He didn't turn and look over at them; he didn't need to. He knew who they were, and eventually, he could feel a pressure down on his hand. He didn't even blink at the touch. At the very most, he just deflated a little weakly. He could hear the soft humming next. It was soft, and calming, and Hiro's heart ripped a little bit as he realized that it was the same song he had been taught on the piano. Hummed by the same person who had taught it to him. And that was how the dream always ended. The soft sound of rain, but mostly the touch on his hand, and the quietly-hummed tune. The feeling of someone close beside him and not planning to go anyway at all.

Hiro never knew what was worse about it all: the fact that, when he woke up, the song would run through his mind all day, or the fact that he woke up feeling more comforted than he had felt in weeks.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Aunt Cass was doing laundry. Tadashi was sitting on the sofa, watching some sitcom that offered a good enough plot to half pay attention to, and get lost in. Overall, the tension that usually hung over the house was lifted. Actually, it had been lifted for the past couple of days now. Tadashi wasn't really in the mood to try and figure out whether or not that was a bad thing; typically, when he did that, it just made things go right back down the toilet. So he was just enjoying the peace and quiet while it was here.

Aunt Cass kept glancing over idly at the TV every so often. She liked the show even more than Tadashi did— in fact, she had been the one to introduce it to him and Hiro. While Tadashi had taken a liking to it immediately, Hiro was less interested, so they typically saved the recordings to watch together. So, at every particularly funny joke, she cracked a grin and a small laugh. It was nice to hear her giggle— it felt like a while since Tadashi had been able to hear her do such a thing.

In the back of his mind was the niggling reminder that he had homework he needed to do. Not anything interesting like a project, or some research. They were supposed to read all of the chapters that they had read in class over again, for the test that was scheduled for tomorrow. But the mere thought of turning to his book and having to pour himself over it a second time was enough to make Tadashi want to gag. It was the last thing that he wanted to do, and so he hadn't even cracked open his backpack yet.

Aunt Cass hadn't broached the topic of what the school had offered him yet. Either they did not send her the email, or she simply did not want to open that can of worms. Regardless of what it was, though, there had been no progress made from it. Tadashi certainly hadn't emailed them or anything about it. In fact, it was getting harder and harder to drag himself up out of bed and down to the campus that he had loved what felt like a lifetime ago.

Some part of him knew the topic that was burning on the tip of his tongue whenever he was with Aunt Cass. Whenever she asked him how school was that day. All he really wanted was to spit out what he really wished for. But all he could manage was a fake smile and a small: "Yeah, it was fine." Every day, he got up with that sinking feeling, and the promise to himself that he would tell her that day. But time and time again, he ended up backing out of it.

He sighed and tried to redirect his attention again. Onto something that was less important, like the TV show. It was why he had pulled it up in the first place. Currently 'the gang' was in yet another kind of sticky situation. To be perfectly honest, Tadashi wasn't really sure of the exact details that led up to this point. All he _did_ know now was that the friends were currently inside of the obligatory apartment, talking about some acting job that one of them had landed. With only one line at his disposal, they were all giving their opinion on how it should be said.

It was pretty much just the repetition of the cry: 'These pretzels are making me thirsty!' over and over again in different pitches.

As soon as Tadashi was starting to crack a smile himself, his attention was sidetracked. Off to the side, the phone started to ring. It cut through the peace that had settled over the apartment, and both of them turned on the dime because of it. Aunt Cass was farther away from the phone by default, so she was left to glance awkwardly over at Tadashi. He was already reaching for it though. He didn't have his own phone on him— it could have been one of his friends. And if it was anyone else, he would politely tell them that there wasn't time to talk at the moment.

So he grabbed the phone and pressed 'talk', putting it up against his ear. "Hello?"

The person on the other end was completely business; he could tell that from the very first syllable that met his ear. It made him sit a little straighter, and Aunt Cass to pay more attention. "Hello, this is Annie from Second Chance, I'm here to contact the legal guardian of Hiro Hamada?"

Instantly, Tadashi shot up to his feet. It was a little pointless to do so, given that this was a phone conversation and not a literal one. But it was more out of habit than anything else. His eyes went wide, and his hand went up to dig his fingernails down into his skull. "Is he alright?" he demanded. And with those three words, Aunt Cass was up from the couch as well. Her efforts to fold and pack away laundry in their respective piles went completely out the window.

"Please let me speak to his guardian," Annie requested again, this time a little bit louder.

There wasn't much else he could do. He could try and fight it unsuccessfully, or he could just hand over the phone and figure out what was going on faster. Although his nerves were fizzling with anxiety at the thought of someone from Hiro's hospital calling them at seven at night, he sucked in a sharp breath and held it out for his aunt. Cass immediately snatched it close and answered, looking just a frazzled as Tadashi was. "Hello? Hello?" she asked, twice, just because she wanted to make sure she got through. Before the person could say anything, she was rushing ahead. "Is this about Hiro? I'm his aunt, is everything okay? He's not hurt, is he?"

She was quiet for a while, just listening to what the other line had to say. Tadashi watched her carefully, trying to track every single emotion that flickered over her face. At first, she was frantic, just like him. But slowly she began to relax and ease backwards— she looked uncertain and caught off-guard, more than she did frightened. She chewed down on her bottom lip for a while, which had been a nervous tic ever since Tadashi had known her.

But eventually, Tadashi watched as she straightened out, and a sense of realization dawned over her features. There was the smallest hint of a smile way back in her eyes, and her lips twitched upwards ever so slightly. Tadashi felt the tension leave his shoulders, though hesitantly so. He was left to just wait and see what was actually happening. Aunt Cass didn't look jolted anymore, so he garnered hope from that. And sure enough, when she spoke again, her voice was just a little bit brighter. Though underneath, there was still a lingering trace of caution. It was only natural, in a way. "Alright," she said. "No, we can be there as soon as possible."

Tadashi raised his eyebrows just a little bit. He stiffened up a little bit, and in the back of his mind, he was starting to hope against hope. It was a dangerous thing to do nowadays, but he found it coming to him anyway. "Right," Aunt Cass continued. "Okay. Tomorrow morning. We'll be there. For sure." She paused and listened one more time. By now, her smile was growing to be actually noticeable now. "Thank you very much. I appreciate it. Alright. Goodbye."

She brought the phone away from her ear, and she hung up. For a long moment that felt like an eternity, she just looked down at the floor, as if she was too lost to do anything. But then she stirred, and she looked up at Tadashi, her eyes going soft as they landed on her nephew. He perked, looking at her imploringly as he waited for an explanation. When she gave one, her voice was hushed and constrained. Against herself, and the doubts that she still held, her smile was stretched from ear to ear when she finally brought herself to speak. "We can go and get him tomorrow," she whispered.

Tadashi stiffened. Out of everything, he hadn't expected that. At the most, he had thought that there would just be some good news. In seeing his alarm, she rushed to make the entire story clear. "Well— well, he's going to see us tomorrow, and if everything goes well, he can come home with us. Or at least…at least, that's what they said their policy was. B-But they said that he's been doing so well recently, and that he's actually starting to get a little bit brighter. They…" She trailed off for a second, looking at Tadashi with something akin to disbelief. A pleasant kind of disbelief, but disbelief all the same. The shock was clear in her words as she finished. "They said he's alright to come home. If that's what he wants."

He stared at her blankly at first, just processing what her words meant. Eventually, he could not keep himself from following her lead. Like molasses, his own face broke out in a broad smile. His eyes lit up, and even began to sting, and the strongest wave of relief slammed into him, as if the emotion was a baseball bat. He staggered a little bit, and managed to catch himself, just so that he could rush forward. "He can!?" he gasped, flying forward and grabbing hold of his aunt's arms.

He started to laugh, because he was so stricken with the thought of Hiro back home, and this time, perfectly alright. Clearly Aunt Cass was thinking the same. She started to laugh too, and before Tadashi knew it, she had reached out and pulled him close into a hug. "He might come home!" she breathed out, clinging tightly to her oldest nephew. "He might come home, he might come home!" It was the best news in the world, and it was the only news that they had been waiting for. Weeks and weeks had gone by, and they had simply waited for Hiro to be well enough to come home. Now it was all finally over.

So the two looked a little ridiculous, holding tightly to one another, grinning and laughing like they had won the lottery.

Only, what they were celebrating was much, much better than that.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He was skipping school. Again. By now, if he was any other person, he would be contacted by the school, and notified that this was a major issue. Granted, his grades were probably not as stellar as they usually were. But at the moment, the last thing he wanted to do on planet Earth was go and sit through a test from Mrs. Barker about information presented in such a boring fashion that he probably knew none of it. Really, he knew in the back of his mind that nothing would happen. It wasn't like they could yell at him for missing, or tell him that he couldn't take the test some other time. They were the _last_ people that could possibly get angry with him.

They were sitting in a small room, at a table. The room was carpeted, and it had a few bookshelves stocked with reading material, probably for patients. There was a window that let in the light from outside, but it was kind of grayer than normal, given that it was raining out. There were a few plants around too— either hanging from the ceiling, or stacked up on furniture. Overall, it was pretty peaceful. It matched the rest of the building, which wasn't a surprise. It seemed nice. Tadashi wondered whether or not Hiro thought the same. He hoped so; he'd spent so long here.

Aunt Cass and Tadashi were currently seated on one side of the table. On the other side, was a single chair, which was empty so far. They were waiting for Hiro to be brought down to them, and nervously so. Aunt Cass shifted around every so often, as if she was trying to find the most comfortable position possible. Tadashi's leg was bouncing absent-mindedly, and his hands drummed on the table. After about ten minutes of waiting in complete silence, Aunt Cass turned over to look at him. "Are you sure it's alright that you're missing school again?" she asked hesitantly. "You're not…you're not falling behind, are you? And I don't want you to lose any of your scholarships."

Tadashi grimaced a little bit. He coughed and cleared his throat, turning and saying a tad bit uncomfortably: "Well, that's just the thing. Uh…they're not…they're not going to charge us…anymore." Aunt Cass didn't say anything, so when he turned to check what she was doing, he realized that she was just staring at him in a dumbfounded way. "The Dean called me into his office a while ago. He said that the college wanted to pay my tuition from now on. And…that they were going to give back the money we've already given them. They said they would give me time to think about it."

Her reaction was just like Tadashi thought it would be. Immense relief seemed to pour straight out of her, and she slouched a little bit in her chair. Not for the first time, Tadashi wondered how much all of this was costing her. It can't be cheap, in any sense. After a month in the hospital, with everything that entailed, and now this, it had to be hard. Tadashi wouldn't know, because she obviously didn't talk about it. But this must be a huge weight off of her shoulders.

After she experienced this rush of shocked disbelief, her eyes narrowed a little bit. "When were you going to tell me this?" she asked.

Discomfort clawed at Tadashi's foundation. He looked away a little awkwardly, and his hand automatically went up to rub his neck. This piqued Cass' interest, because by this point, she knew both of her nephew's tells. Or at least— she _had_. But Tadashi hadn't changed, so that led her to know that something was amiss. Currently, he was struggling to spit out what he had wanted to tell her for ages, now. "I just…I kind of need to talk to you about—"

Tadashi cut himself off and looked up from his lap, his eyes widening and rounding out. Aunt Cass followed suit. She stiffened and went rigid, and the conversation at hand was immediately forgotten in the wake of footsteps coming down the hallway. The pair waited tensely as the door opened, and the person from before, who had led them here in the first place, came back inside. She looked sweet, and she was certainly more than kind when they had first met. She was grinning excitedly as she came in, and Tadashi took that as a good sign.

Sure enough, once the woman stepped over to the side, and allowed a gap, Hiro came into view and crossed the threshold. He was on crutches, now. Tadashi found himself immediately floored by the mere sight of him. He seemed much healthier. He was still skinnier than he used to be, by a far degree. But his skin didn't cling to his bones, and his skin wasn't paled over with sickness. Rather, there was a normal color to his cheeks— a flush that had been absent beforehand. He was wearing jeans and a loose-fitting hoodie as he shuffled inside. And he realized with a tear in his chest, that his baby brother was wearing his hat.

Hiro looked up at them as he stepped inside, and there was a sense of nervousness that immediately swelled forward to crowd his gaze. Without even glancing at one another, Aunt Cass and Tadashi stood up from their chairs. This caused Hiro to stop prematurely, and he bit hard on his lower lip. It was clear that he was anxious, and that he was unsure as to what he was supposed to do. His eyebrows knitted together, and after a second, he turned and looked down at the floor. Mostly under his breath, he offered a subtle: "Hi."

Aunt Cass laughed, but it came out as more of a sob. Her eyes were getting brighter and brighter with tears, and she reached up to cover her mouth with one hand. But then she straightened again, and a smile spread over her face. "Hey, honey!" she gushed, maybe a little bit too loud. Hiro managed to look up at the call, though he still seemed filled with reluctance. "How are you? You look so…you look so _good_ , I can't believe it!"

Hiro smiled a little apprehensively. Tadashi noticed, though, that the gesture caused his eyes to light up just a little bit. The grin didn't just splay itself across his face blandly, and stop there, like it had ever since Hiro had come back home. It actually leaked up to the rest of him, for once. "Yeah, I…I feel a little better." His voice was soft, but it was there. He wasn't silent, like he had been up until… _that_ morning. Tadashi was still motionless, and he did not move whatsoever. The fact was getting to Hiro, whose eyes flickered over to him with a flash. He shuffled his feet a little bit. Anxious, and on-edge.

After a second, he seemed to remember himself. He reached up and adjusted his stance with his crutches so that he could grab the hat that was on his head. "Oh." Tadashi watched in silence as he pulled down the hat and leaned over a little so that he could extend it out. "This is…this is yours," he said softly. "You can have it back, if you want." Tadashi still didn't say anything, and he didn't move either. All he could do was look over at Hiro and drink in the fact that he was standing right in front of him. But Hiro seemed to take the unresponsiveness as something more negative.

He wilted, and tried to offer some sort of apology. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…I probably shouldn't have kept it. You can have it back now. If you still want it." He glanced down at the floor, his smile gone entirely now as he frowned. He waited for Tadashi to reply, but his older brother was silent. Eventually, he started to look up again. "I didn't mean to—" Whatever he was going to say was pointless, though. As soon as he started to perk, Tadashi was rushing forward.

The elder of the two skirted the table and rushed for Hiro. His arms flew out, and, completely disregarding his hat, Tadashi more or less crashed into his brother. Hiro squeaked at once and stumbled, but Tadashi pulled him close and made sure that he wasn't in any danger of falling. At first, Hiro was too surprised to move at all. His crutches fell in surprise, but it didn't matter, because his brother was holding him. Tadashi inhaled sharply, leaning down and putting his chin on top of Hiro's head.

His eyes burned, and he found himself sniffing harshly as he held close to his baby brother. To the person he had stuck with his entire life, and had watched grow up just as attentively, if not more than, Aunt Cass. He had watched him make his first robot, he had watched him go to high school when he was just nine years old. He had watched him graduate at thirteen, and he had screamed and cheered when he crossed the stage, even though he knew that it was frowned upon.

He had watched him leave to go Bot Fighting one night, and not return. He had watched him in a hospital room, completely mute and sorrowful. He had watched him curl up into a ball and shut everything out, and Tadashi had watched him barely breathe on the floor of a bathroom. Now, he had watched him come back, all on his own. Standing up, with crutches, but standing up all the same. Despite it all, he was still here. He was still here, and now he would be okay.

Tadashi sniffed again, thicker this time. "I missed you, Knucklehead," he got out in a small croak. He held tight, probably causing Hiro nothing but discomfort. But Hiro didn't complain. In fact, after he got over the shock that the slam had given him, he just moved quickly so that he could wrap his arms around Tadashi's waist. He didn't say anything; Tadashi didn't think that he could, at the moment. But he didn't care. He just closed his eyes tightly and focused on the fact that Hiro was there and he was hanging onto him.

The relief that he could finally feel was indescribable. But it was still nothing compared to the happiness that he could finally relish in.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"You're sure?" Aunt Cass asked a little anxiously. "You don't have to go all the way up there if you don't want to."

"I want to, though," Hiro replied. Hastily, he tried to amend the rushed response. "I mean…I would like to sleep up there. Instead of on the couch." He looked over at Tadashi, who was lingering at the foot of the steps, where he had been stopped. "I think…it might be good for me to sleep in my bed again. If I can get up there. If that's okay with you. I don't…I don't know whether or not you've liked the space."

He couldn't help but crack a grin. "'Liked the space?'" he echoed. When Hiro still seemed doubtful, his smile just widened. "Of course not! I think it'd be awesome for you to sleep upstairs again!" Ever since they had gotten home and gotten Hiro situated again, he had been quiet and skittish. Tadashi guessed that was only natural. At least he was talking, and at least he was staying engaged.

Tadashi had been worried that his coming back would reignite the media attention that hovered like a cloud over their home. Usually, there was at least one or two reporters that were hanging around, trying to catch wind of a new story they could use. They hadn't seen anyone loitering on the way in; nobody had known his release would be that day. But when Hiro did get out of the car and make his way inside, Tadashi had been acutely aware of everyone around the family turning to look; a few people even did double-takes. He wasn't sure whether or not Hiro had noticed. He just knew now that attention was probably the last thing that Hiro needed.

To hear that Hiro was asking for this was just further reinforcement that he was better.

Aunt Cass clearly thought the same. She grinned as she looked in between the two, both in pajamas and ready to go upstairs, just like they used to do every night. "Sure, then! I can help you get up the stairs, sweetie." Hiro seemed a little bit embarrassed at the offer, but it wasn't like he could argue against it. The wheelchair was still there for him in case he got too exhausted, or his back started to hurt, which it had the tendency to do, now that he was just beginning to recover in that aspect of his injuries. But he had gone the whole night without using it, so it was forgotten for now. It was probably better that it stayed that way, so pushing himself to use the steps all alone wasn't such a good idea.

Tadashi watched Aunt Cass take the crutches from Hiro for the moment and setting them aside to fetch later. And, grabbing his arm and looping it around her neck, she supported him as they started up the steps, taking it very slow. Tadashi brought up the rear and went their pace, his heart in his throat as he watched them a little anxiously. He was afraid that they would slip, or Hiro would stumble and maybe hurt himself, but they got up to the landing just fine.

When they did, Hiro perked, turning and looking around himself at the room in silence. Tadashi sidled past them, and after a pause of hesitation, Aunt Cass let go of Hiro, who had shifted over to hold himself up against the wall. Nobody spoke for a while, because nobody really needed to. Hiro hadn't been up here since he had come home; with the wheelchair, and how bad his back first was, it had been too risky. Now, here he was, standing in the room that looked exactly like it had when he had first left. Except…his eyes turned over and fell on the bed, which was neatly made and tucked. His pillows were arranged like his bed was something out of a portrait. He tried to remember if, for some reason, he had stopped and made his bed that day before he left. He didn't think he did.

"Oh, I…I cleaned up a little bit. For you," Aunt Cass said, Hiro turning to glance over at her. She seemed trite now, as if her crime was much more than picking up what had been left behind. "That first week, I just…tried to distract myself with anything. I figured…when you'd get back, you would be happy I did it for you." Back then, she had thought that he would be back by the end of the week, at the very most. Not by the end of _fifty-two_ weeks.

"Oh, it's fine," Hiro said. "I don't mind. T-Thanks, though. It was probably really messy." He had no idea whether it was messy or not. Even now, looking around the room, he was remembering things that should have been basic. That poster— he'd forgotten that it was there. And he'd forgotten that up in the corner, it was torn a little bit. That used to frustrate him out of his _mind_. How had he let that one slip? He cleared his throat and tried to move on. "It's nice to be back up here. And weird." He laughed a little bit; it came out a tiny bit hollow, but he didn't pay attention to it.

Aunt Cass smiled sadly. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but whatever she had in mind failed her. She shut it instead and just turned to look around the room, as if she was drinking it in just as much as Hiro was. Or maybe she was just drinking in the fact that at last, there were _three_ people standing in this room. Eventually, though, she realized that she could be overstaying her welcome. So she turned and offered Hiro another grin, stepping forward and kissing his forehead. "I'll let you get some sleep, then. And I'll be right downstairs, if you need me."

"Okay," Hiro said.

Aunt Cass went back downstairs to get Hiro's crutches. When she came back up, Hiro took them gratefully and hobbled the last few paces it took to reach the bed. He sat down then, and put them down on the floor. Tadashi went down to his own bed, pulling aside the covers and slipping underneath them. It wasn't as easy for Hiro, who had to shuffle awkwardly over the side and then cram himself under. With Cass' help, though, he managed it, and Tadashi could tell by the look on his face that it was more than alarming to finally be sitting up in his bed, underneath the blankets.

He looked down as if the idea was a foreign one to him. In almost a numb fashion, he reached out and dragged his palm over the comforter that was on him— _his_ comforter. _His_ bed, that wasn't bright purple, but his own blue and gray. The wallpaper wasn't white around him, either, it was the familiar greenish blue. He looked over to the side to see Tadashi over in his smaller section. At the bed and the shelves, and that screen that he always pulled in front of him whenever Hiro was irritating him. It was all _his_ room. Not Abigail's. The thought should have made him wildly ecstatic, but really, he just felt…weird. Not bad, really. But…weird.

He had been told that it was alright he couldn't be happy, back at the hospital. That it would come in time, and he shouldn't feel bad if he didn't experience that joy. He just had to wait for it. So he told himself he would wait for it. That it _was_ just weird, and he could bring himself to be satisfied with that. He was almost thankful when Cass leaned over and kissed him one last time, to break his thought process. "Goodnight, baby," she said, reaching over and hugging him tightly. Hiro smiled, feeling how reluctant she was to leave him. He could tell by the hug alone that she would rather stay. He was close to telling her that she could, but then she withdrew and smiled gently at him. Her eyes were right back to being shiny. Lately, that was her bad habit. But it was one that Hiro shared. "I'll see you in the morning."

How wonderful it was to say those six words to him.

And how wonderful it was for Hiro to hear them.

She went over to Tadashi, and gave him a kiss too. He was only slightly embarrassed, and, for dramatic effect, he turned and threw a look over in Hiro's direction. And he laughed when Hiro smiled in turn. Cass called out one last goodnight and started for the steps. But she was stopped when Hiro spoke up. "Aunt Cass?" he asked.

She turned at once. "Yes?"

It was hard to do. Because the last time he had said it, he had said it to someone who was forced it out of him with punches and screams. It was another thing he had tried to talk before, with the therapist that had been assigned to his case. She had told him not to worry. That it would get easier and easier to say with practice in respect to those who really did deserve it. He hadn't tried to do it since, and so it came out of his mouth in a small stutter of something akin to anxiety. It took a little bit out of the meaning that way. Maybe. He wasn't sure. "I love you."

She stilled. Her eyes widened just a little bit. He wasn't sure whether or not she understood. How hard it was to get out that sentiment. But it was there all the same, and 'I love you's always meant a lot to Aunt Cass. He remembered she would say it nearly five times a day, at the most. And in hearing it now, he could see her swell with delight. Her voice was a little bit choked when she returned it just as earnestly. "I love you too, baby. I love you _so_ much. And I'm glad you're home."

He smiled. She did too. Then she turned and left, going down the stairs after flicking off the light. Hiro blinked, looking up a bit and looking at the shadows that the blinds were making on the walls. With the moon outside, the markings were bright. It reminded him of the shadows that he would always stare at every night, that were always casted straight across from him. The thought made him frown just a little bit, and he was forced to try and bring himself back to the present by pressing his hands down into his mattress. To remind himself that he was back in his room, and not on the floor of Callaghan's house.

He laid back with a wince, having to arrange himself accordingly. But eventually he settled himself down, and he could lean back into the pillow behind him. With the blankets pulled up to his chest, and his head sinking back comfortably, he was able to feel a small sense of relief. He dragged a smile up across his face. He found that if he smiled, or even if he had to force himself to smile, he could feel a bit better. And he tried to listen to the familiar sounds of the house settling, and he tried to listen to the road outside, to help him as well.

"Hiro?" Tadashi's voice came through the dark of the room, and it made him jump in surprise.

He grimaced as his body went into a spasm of nerves. But he recovered quickly and just turned. "Yeah?" he whispered.

At first, there was nothing in reply. He assumed that he just imagined his name in the first place. It wouldn't be the first time. But then there was a small laugh, which caused Hiro to turn and look over towards where his brother was. He couldn't see him of course; not clearly. In the recesses of his mind, though, where his long-term memory came from, he knew that his older brother was probably shifted over to look at him just like Hiro was. How many nights had they spent turned towards one another? How many nights had they stayed up talking and laughing?

At his older brother's chuckle, his own lips inched up into a smile. "What?" he asked. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Tadashi laughed. And it was then that Hiro knew the laugh was only partly out of humor. The rest was just pure respite. "It's just so great to hear you again."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro was sitting at the kitchen table when Tadashi came home from school. Aunt Cass was baking up a few more pastries that needed restocking down in the café. She was taking a day off from it, but she had already asked Hiro if it was alright that she open again tomorrow. He'd said of course. He wasn't going to stand in the way of anything else. So he was helping as much as he could, and he was icing the baked goods that had already cooled. The entire house smelled like sugar and cake, and it was a comfort to Hiro.

The smell was comforting, that was, because all day long, there had been a ruckus outside. He'd seen it when he'd gotten up that morning. People cramming themselves on the sidewalk in front of the house, and even halfway inside the street. The roar of the crowd and of whatever was being said down there had been a constant headache ever since Hiro's eyes had snapped open from his dream. He supposed that there had to be about three news stations down there at the moment, so he was doing his best not to turn on the TV, lest he stumbled into something he didn't want to see.

So when Tadashi came upstairs, his jacket a little ruffled, and his shirt slightly untucked, Hiro could tell that he had had to shove his way inside. He certainly looked frazzled enough, and when he took off his backpack to swing it to the side, he let out a heavy sigh. Hiro watched all of this after his eyes flickered up from the table. He was currently icing a cake— he'd been working on it for the past thirty minutes. When Cass decorated cakes, she always made it seem easy. He felt like she could have done a better job with it if she was spun around five times and then blindfolded.

Aunt Cass was obviously not going to criticize his efforts. And, to her added credit, she didn't make a point of calling attention to Tadashi's worked-up state, which Hiro had already noticed. "Tadashi!" She walked over and gave him a hug, clearly in a much better mood today, despite the noise down below. Tadashi brightened at the sight of not only Cass but Hiro as well, and by the time Cass was hugging him, his smile was recovered completely. All the irritation he had first had when he trudged up the steps was gone in an instant, like a light switch had been flipped.

"How was school today?" Aunt Cass asked, grinning as she stepped away and started to hop back to the oven.

Hiro frowned a little anxiously at the question. He turned to look at Tadashi and waited for his reply, probably more than Aunt Cass was.

He sighed and stuck his hands down into pockets. He breathed out a sigh and started to walk into the kitchen. "It was fine," he said in an exhale. "Same old annoying people, same old boring lessons." He was joking; or at least, he looked like he was trying to make some sort of joke. But Hiro's frown only deepened with the response. He looked at Tadashi closely, who was looking down instead at the cake that was sitting in front of him, now forgotten for the time being. "She's got you decorating now, huh?" he teased. "Barely even home, and you're put to work."

He blinked a few times, to rouse himself out of his thoughts. But then he looked down and shook himself. "Oh— yeah, I'm…" He pursed his lips a little bit, shifting in a bit of nervousness. His voice was quiet when he continued. "I'm trying. It's just…not really working out."

"Don't be silly!" Aunt Cass cried out, before Tadashi could say anything first. She rushed over to look at the cake up and down, when really, her argument would have stood even if Hiro had just eaten the whole thing. "It looks absolutely wonderful! I love it! And the customer will love it too, I just know it!" Hiro sighed and smiled just a bit, while Aunt Cass leaned down and kissed the crown of his head. She went for the oven again to check on what was still baking, and tossed over her shoulder: "How did the test go, Tadashi?"

Tadashi turned and sat down in the chair beside Hiro. Wordlessly, he picked up the knife and started to help him with spreading the icing. Hiro looked on, waiting. "I got an A on it," he sighed. Hiro eyed him doubtfully, picking up on the lack of excitement that was in his voice. Usually he was roaring with enthusiasm when he talked about school. Now, he didn't even look happy. Hiro's shoulders slouched, and he looked back at the cake. "They didn't take off any points for the lateness, so…" He trailed off. He didn't bother to finish.

"Well that's good!" Aunt Cass chirped.

"Mhm." Tadashi kept icing the cake. The conversation stopped there.

Aunt Cass didn't find anything wrong with it. She started talking about all that she and Hiro had done that day, obviously over the moon with it all, even though it wasn't all that much. She didn't think twice about the silence. But Hiro kept his eyes straying from the cake to his older brother. His forehead was creased, and in his lap, his hands were wringing together tightly. Tadashi didn't react to his glances. He just kept going over the cake, trying to make it as nice and as neat as possible.

He didn't realize that his baby brother was looking over at him with skepticism and sadness.

Or maybe he just didn't want to.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

The phone rang again. Hiro had been counting, and that was the sixth time this hour. 'Hour' being the fact that it was 2:25 in the afternoon. He looked up from the couch, frowning a bit. It wasn't because he was irritated that the story was interrupted; he was hardly paying attention. It was the look on Aunt Cass' face, who had gotten up each and every phone call before this one. Just like every other one, she picked up the phone and answered, her face pinched and clouded over. "Hello?" The pause, just like the rest of the times. "No. No, we do not." Her words were flat, and it had a hard edge to it that Hiro didn't have the habit of hearing too much. "No, and I would appreciate it if you never called this number again."

She hung up before she gave the person on the other line time to speak. And then she put the phone down, with a thud that was probably a result of too much force. Her grimace made it clear that she didn't mean it. She let out a gusty sigh, which was meant to give a sense of humor to things. Then she turned over to Hiro, whose frightened stare was on her. She offered him a grin. "They're so annoying!" she chirped.

He wilted. "I'm sorry," he offered.

She shook her head. "Don't be! It's not your fault!" She rushed back over to him, sitting down on the couch again and taking his hands in her own. As she did so, her eyes were caught on the long scar that ran from his shoulder, to down towards his hand. Her eyes flashed over with sadness, and it took a considerable effort for her to look up at his face again instead. It was weighted down and dreary; he had seen the distraction; he had not missed it.

Cass winced, but just shook her head. She kept a tight grip on him, as if she was too afraid to let go. " _None_ of this is your fault," she murmured. " _None_ of it."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"And how about your brother?" the therapist asked gently, leaning forward now so that she could survey him fully. This was the third time now that he had come back to Second Chance so that he could speak to his therapist, Ogden. It was some aspect of the outpatient therapy he was required to go to. It meant that he couldn't really forget this place, or it clichéd name, but he figured that that was probably a good thing right now. It certainly made Aunt Cass happy to know that he would talk to someone. And he would be lying if he said that being able to talk to someone that he didn't see every day, and that he knew wouldn't talk to anyone else about it, was comforting.

"Tadashi?" Hiro asked, for pointless clarification. Ogden smiled and nodded, and Hiro did the same. "It's…it's fine. I think, I mean. He always looks a little…he looks a little upset when he comes home from school. He always brightens up when he sees me and Aunt Cass, but…I always feel bad. When I first see him. He doesn't…he doesn't look happy, you know? Like he used to."

"Mhm," Ogden murmured. "Why do you think you feel bad? Just because he used to enjoy school and finds it a chore, now? I can't tell you enough how many times college made _me_ upset. You should feel lucky you don't have the experience with it."

Hiro cracked a smile, mostly because he felt obligated to. Then he shrugged. "Well, I mean…I don't think he would be having such bad a time if it wasn't for me. N-Not for me, but for…you know." It ended lamely, but he got his point across. "He's probably got a teacher he likes less. He's probably got a bunch of people staring at him all day. When we— when we walked out of the house today, there was a whole crowd of people. It was…it was weird, they all wanted to talk to me, or see me."

"Well, I suppose it's only natural," Ogden braced. "People would like to get the full story on what happened. But you should keep in mind that none of it matters; what matters is that you're able to recover at a pace that's suitable for you. Keep everyone else out of you mind." He sat back a little bit in his chair. "And as for your concerns about your brother, it's called for. And maybe school was easier back then for him, but I would think that he would much rather have his little brother back home with him, than an easy day at school, right?" Hiro nodded, unable to argue. He never was. "I'm sure you're much more important to Tadashi than his college. And I'm sure that this will pass. It always passes."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Hiro murmured. He looked down at himself, and the hoodie he had donned before they'd left. Out of a newfound habit, he reached up and tugged down the jacket sleeves, so that they covered his hands entirely.

Ogden's eyes flashed as he took in the wardrobe choice. "Is it too cold in here for you?"

Hiro perked, but he didn't look up. "Oh— uh, no. I-It's fine." He tugged his sleeves down even more before he was satisfied enough to drop it. "I just…like to wear hoodies."

The therapist nodded. "Is that something you've always liked?" he prompted gently.

"Well…" Hiro thought about it for a second. Eventually he nodded. "Yeah, I guess so." He shifted, once again trying to find a more comfortable way to sit. Or maybe it was just something to do. "Plus, I just like it so that I can…" He didn't finish the sentence, just reaching up and tugging the sleeves down even further, despite the fact it couldn't really cover anything else. His hands were already hidden from view. He offered a small shrug. "I just like wearing them."

"I see," Ogden mused. "And how about you overall?" Hiro reached up at the question, brushing his covered hands through his hair to brush the stupid bangs out of his face. "When you were here, you were feeling a lot of this…empty, _hollow_ kind of feeling. Do you still feel that way at home, or is being with your loved ones kind of alleviating that feeling? Or is it something that still comes by every now and then?"

"It's not…" Hiro sighed and glanced down at his lap. He always had trouble answering these kinds of direct questions. There was always a fear that he would not be able to answer _correctly_ , or the way that Ogden wished. When, really, there wasn't any right or wrong answer. Ogden allowed him the time that he needed, and he watched him carefully as he took in a slightly wavering breath. "Sometimes, I feel like there's…like…this _weight_ on my chest. And I feel like…there's a lot I could be doing right now, but whenever I try to think of something…I can't." He sighed through his nose, slouching a little bit. "That doesn't make sense," he exhaled in disappointment.

"Sure it does," Ogden reassured him. "Of course you're experiencing anxiety at a time like this. You just spent a year doing absolutely nothing. Once you find yourself back where you were, you remember all that's at hand at the moment." Hiro looked up with a glum expression. "You remember all the things that are at your disposal, and you remember that there are commitments to be had, and other people everywhere you look. It's very overwhelming, but the important thing to keep in mind, is that you don't have to worry about any of those things. All you've got to worry about is yourself."

Hiro nodded once. "Yeah, I guess."

Ogden leaned back a little bit. "And your aunt? Is she helping you to do that?"

A smile ghosted over his face. "She's really happy. Now that I'm back. Just— all the time, she's smiling. It's kind of embarrassing." But it _wasn't_ , because every time she smiled, it made him want to do the same, which was a feeling he had not had in such a long time. The smile drooped though, and he grew a little bit more reserved. As did his voice when he went on. "It feels weird. Sometimes I just…can't be happy, because it's so weird. To _be_ back. Is that bad? That sometimes I feel like…I should still be… _back_ there?"

"I wouldn't say it's bad. Not at all," Ogden replied. The predictable response, but one that was probably needed all the same. "It'll take a while to separate yourself from what you went through, but I think once you get to that point, you'll find that it was worth the wait." Hiro nodded again; he didn't have anything to say. Ogden cleared his throat next, which was a sign that he was about to say something that was a little bit heavier. And sure enough, the next question was enough to cause Hiro to look away a bit. "Are you keeping up with the trail at all?"

"No." It was all he gave. It was all he was willing to give.

"I see," Ogden said, not sounding surprised at all in the refusal. "Maybe it's a good thing for you to get that separation. To hold your head up above a situation until the final aspect of it comes to be."

He looked over in his direction just a little bit. "If I told you I was looking into it, you would tell me that _that_ was a good thing for me. That I was _facing_ everything, or something like that." Ogden grinned a little bit at the accusation. Purely because that was what it was: an accusation. Hiro was usually morose and reserved. He hadn't done so much as hint at any sass or flippancy before now, which had been so much of his character before now. The fact that he was talking back just a little bit now, was paradoxically comforting. At Ogden's grin, Hiro lightened up just a little bit too.

"Am I not allowed to be supportive of you?" Ogden asked in a small laugh.

Hiro's smile lost a little bit of its energy, and he shook his head as he turned away again. His hands were still covered up by the longer sleeves of his hoodie. "It seems like that's what everyone's doing," he mumbled. "Just _agreeing_ with me, or being _way_ too excited about everything. Treating me all weird, because they didn't know what else to do with me." He shrugged. "But…I guess even _I_ don't really know what to do with me either, so I can't really blame them."

"It'll pass," Ogden reassured him swiftly. "Bad things always pass. You just have to figure out how to weather the storm until it does."

Hiro rubbed at his face, holding back a sigh. "Yeah, but it's _taking_ too long."

"Is there something you could do?" Ogden asked. "Something that could give you that closure? Maybe you're waiting for something to come along and give you that sense of finality. An _ending_ to it all?"

Hiro's eyes flashed a bit at the question. He shifted in his chair again, and Ogden was not one to miss such a detail. But when he did speak up, he shook his head just a little bit. "No, not really. I can't— I can't think of anything, at least." Ogden could see that a little bit of his wall was returning and building itself back up. It was obvious he did not wish to speak openly on such a topic. So the therapist pursed his lips and nodded slowly, making sure to note the small detail as inconspicuously as possible. It was easy to do, as Hiro was looking over to the side now.

He changed direction. "But even without that closure, for the moment at hand, are you _happy_? Back at home? With how things are going now?"

Hiro seemed thoughtful. There was a long stretch of silence, in which he just took to looking down at his feet. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, and his hoodie-covered hands rubbed together a little bit. At his fidgeting, Ogden grew a little concerned, and sat up more in his chair. But he felt a rush of relief once Hiro drew himself together and turned to look back up at him. And he was even more so when the young boy mustered up a small smile. "I think so," he replied. "I think I could be."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Tadashi! Tadashi, can you tell me how your little brother is getting along!"

"Tadashi, is it true that you went to visit Callaghan!? Did you speak with him!?"

"Tadashi, did your brother tell you why he tried to kill himself?"

"Tadashi, has your brother been keeping up with the trail? What are his thoughts!?"

Tadashi weaved through the annoying crowd, his eyes narrowed in irritation and anger as he marched for the front door. He could feel a few people have the nerve to reach out and try to grab at his sleeve or his bag, and pull him back for some kind of stupid interview. Now that Aunt Cass actually opened the café again, it was kind of more bearable. At least these people would come in every so often and buy something. It was a given that Aunt Cass would have to deal with them, then, but she insisted she didn't mind. Money was money.

Sure enough, when he let himself inside the store, his aunt looked a little bit on-edge. Her hair was messed up and flyaway, and she caught sight of Tadashi, she immediately looked relieved. She had been right in the middle of taking down someone's order, but she quickly excused herself to rush over to him. "Tadashi!" she yelped. "Thank goodness you're home!"

He stopped and raised an eyebrow. "Why?" he asked, looking around. The café wasn't packed to the brim or anything. It was a sizeable crowd— but it was a good one, at the same time. Not too many people to make the workload choking, but enough to make you look around and know you'll get at least to your quota for that day. Aunt Cass was a sight to see, though, so he turned to her, already starting to shrug his satchel off of his shoulder. "Do you need some help?"

"No, no, I'm fine." Surely, most of her concern came from the crowd outside. They weren't doing much, but the noise was probably more than irritating. "I just wanted you to go upstairs. Hiro's been alone all day. I tried to dash up there a few times, and he was fine whenever I did, but he probably doesn't want to be alone." Tadashi realized what her worry was stemming from then, as she leaned over and quickly rubbed her hands over her jeans to dust them off. "He's probably fine," she muttered, probably mostly to herself. "But if you could just go upstairs and be with him…?"

"Yeah!" Tadashi pulled his backpack back up where it belonged. Aunt Cass immediately straightened and breathed out a huge sigh. "Yeah, that's what I was going to do. I'll hang out with him."

She gushed, and leaned over to wrap her older nephew up in a hug. He grinned and returned the embrace. "Oh, I'm so, so lucky to have you with me." He warmed over with the sentiment, and his smile grew even more. "I don't know _what_ I'd do without my little college guy." The words were enough to deflate his expression, though. Cass was oblivious to his wilt, given that she was still hugging him tight. And by the time she pulled back to look at him one last time, he had recovered fully.

She turned and rushed back to the customer that she had abandoned. Looking again, though, Tadashi realized that the customer in question was Mrs. Matsuda. He wasn't sure how he could have missed it, given what she was currently wearing. But the old woman just smiled dotingly in reply to Cass' flustered apologies, and waved them off. She was probably the best person to snub mid-order.

Tadashi turned and made his way for the steps, offering smiles to people as he went as a substitute for actual conversation. To every attempt that was made to try and ask him how he was doing, mostly by Regulars that he actually knew, he just grinned or nodded, or offered a small wave. He just made a beeline for the steps and then took them two a time. The second he stepped foot on the landing, he called out his usual: "I'm home!" and turned for the couch, where Hiro was most likely to be.

The cushions were vacant, though. Tadashi grew uncertain at the sight— even more so, when he realized that the TV was still on. It wasn't on anything special, it looked like. Some movie that looked a little too dramatic to enjoy in the way it was probably envisioned to be enjoyed. "Hiro?" he called out, walking a few more paces and looking into the kitchen. Maybe he was hungry and had just started to look for something to eat? But the kitchen was just as empty as the couch was. His crutches were gone, and so was he. But _where_?

"Hiro!?" He raised his voice just a little bit, in case he went upstairs. Maybe he was asleep? He turned for the steps and started to scale them, when something caught at the corner of his eye. The bathroom door was ajar, and on the other side of it, Tadashi could just make out the sight of his younger brother. He was standing at the sink, his eyes trained on the mirror in front of him. He wasn't moving at all, and when Tadashi raised his voice to call out to him again, he still didn't even blink.

Tadashi stepped back down the first few stairs that he had gone up already. His forehead was creased over now, and he stuffed his hands a little cautiously into his pockets. "Hiro!" he snapped, louder now. Still, nothing. He frowned and went up the bathroom so that he could push open the door even more. He tried to ignore the chill that went down his spine as he thought of the last time he had gone looking for Hiro, and he had found him in the bathroom. Instead, he forced himself to focus on the 'now', and the fact that Hiro was still staring at the mirror.

He seemed to be transfixed on himself, his eyes distant and unfocused as he looked in the mirror. Tadashi looked between him and the mirror for a long while, puzzled as he tried to think of what was happening. Eventually, he tore it, and leaned over to put his hand down gently on his shoulder. "Hir—" He finished with a jolt of shock as Hiro jumped probably five feet up into the air. His little brother jerked in surprise, and his hands had to fly out to steady himself on the counter so that he wouldn't fall. Tadashi drew back sharply. "Hey, hey!" he yelped, laughing to try and lighten the mood as Hiro whipped around to look at him in alarm. "What's up? You were zoning out."

"Oh, I…what?" Hiro looked back at the mirror for a second, looking confused. "How long have you been standing there? I didn't notice you."

Tadashi seemed dubious. "Yeah, I got that much," he said. "What were you doing? You were just standing here, staring. I called for you about five times."

"Sorry," Hiro sighed, actually looking like he meant the apology. Tadashi just continued to stare at him though, waiting for his explanation. Certainly, he was warranted one. Hiro reached up and ran one hand through his hair— a nervous tic. He shook his head next, and let out a small sigh. "I just…can't stop thinking. About…" He sighed and shook his head again. "It's stupid. Don't worry about it."

"Tell me," he encouraged. "What's wrong?"

He slouched a bit. "I just…can't stop thinking how much we look alike." Tadashi pushed himself off the doorframe, which he had been leaning against up until now. Hiro turned to glance at him, and he realized how uncomfortable his brother was in confessing such a fact. It wasn't really helped by the distressed look that was on Tadashi's face, either. He turned back front, to the glass that was in front of him. Looking at the expression that was on his face was more than enough to twist Tadashi's heart, and he fell even more crestfallen. "I guess….not _as much_ as we did before. But…I still can't see myself without picturing… _her_."

Tadashi said nothing. Thoughtfully, he tilted his head to the side, his eyes straying up to his hair.

Silence was heavy in between them— so much so, that it was hard to breathe through it without feeling smothered. Hiro was trying to avoid eye contact with Tadashi, and that was a pretty hard thing to miss. Eventually, though, Tadashi brightened, and steeled over with determination. He pushed into the bathroom and leaned over to put his hands on Hiro's shoulders, tilting to the side and looking at his reflection in the mirror decisively. "Well," he sighed, grinning from ear-to-ear now at Hiro's puzzled expression. "Why don't we _do_ something about it, then?"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"It stings."

"Yeah, well, it's supposed to sting. It's supposed to hurt." Tadashi blinked a few times and then turned, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the fine print on the back of the bottle. "Or…at least, I _think_ it's supposed to." He turned to his brother with a much more doubtful look this time, which was met with one of apprehension. "Maybe we should text Gogo about it. She'd know for sure. It's not like I have any experience with it." He hummed thoughtfully, turning back to his brother. Once he did, though, he cracked a grin, unable to stave it off.

Hiro glared at him, though he couldn't suppress the small twinkle of amusement in the back of his own gaze. "Stop it," he huffed. "This was _your_ idea, you can't start laughing at me because of something _you_ did to me." Tadashi shook his head, but his shoulders were twitching up and down with laughter at the same time. This only made Hiro more embarrassed, and it just made Tadashi laugh harder in turn. "You're ridiculous," he whined. "I don't want to do this anymore. I take it back." He looked up, which was a stupid attempt, given that he couldn't see it. "Is it too late to take it back?"

Tadashi snorted, leaning back a little bit. "It's a little bit too late, Knucklehead. It was too late after the first hour."

Hiro rolled his eyes and turned to look towards the stairs. "Does Aunt Cass even know?" In a smaller voice, he mumbled: "She's gonna be mad…"

Tadashi sobered at this. He turned over to see that Hiro was a bit shyer now, once the words escaped his lips. As if he was actually afraid of making Aunt Cass mad. As if she had a _habit_ of getting angry, or anything close to that. He cleared his throat and leaned over, nudging his brother gently to shake him out of it. "C'mon," he chirped. "She'd not going to be angry. She's going to think you're the greatest thing alive, because that's how she always is."

He grinned a little slowly. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Sure."

Tadashi brought his knees up to his chest. "Hey," he said gently. Hiro roused and glanced back over. His older brother brought his arm up, his hand curling into a fist and hanging up in front of Hiro almost imploringly. Hiro smiled. He did the same, and lightly tapped his knuckle against Tadashi's. At the same time, the two of them jerked their arms backwards, their fingers flying out and waving. They both made the same exploding sound, and their smiles both beamed wide.

And for that split second, the small exchange was enough comfort to take close to heart.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

When Aunt Cass came up the steps, having just finished cleaning after the last customer, she could hear the hairdryer going. It made her confused at first, because who would have taken a shower? Hiro? Certainly not Tadashi— not after she asked him to be with his younger brother. And after showers, Hiro never stopped and cared long enough to dry his hair. So, coming over the steps, she followed the noise with a strong twinge of curiosity.

She went over and knocked on the bathroom door as soon as the hum of the machine was cut short. Tadashi poked his head out first, and his eyes lit up when they fell onto his aunt. She just eyed him oddly though. Her bemusement was in no way cleared up with such a look. "What's going on?" she asked. "Where's Hiro?"

Tadashi's reply came in the form of a hiss so quiet, that she could hardly hear him in the first place. "He'll come out, but you've got to promise not to be angry first."

"'Angry?'" she repeated, completely floored. "Why— why would I be angry?"

"I didn't say you would be, I asked you _not_ to be, there's a difference," he rushed through.

Cass' mouth hung a little bit open, but Tadashi was already finished anyway. He stepped forward and pushed the rest of the door, leaving the bathroom completely open. He stepped to the side and shuffled away, and Aunt Cass realized that Hiro was standing right behind him. He was balanced on his crutches, and his expression was a little bit pinched with nervousness. At first, she wasn't sure what she was supposed to be reacting to. He looked the same. The same lame leg, the same hoodie he'd insisted on wearing ever since he'd gotten home. He had those same glasses on that she wasn't entirely used to, even now. And his hair was still—

 _That_ was the change.

Aunt Cass was too shocked to say anything for a long moment. She just stared at him and took in the change. It was clear that her lack of response was brushing Hiro the wrong way, but she couldn't help it. His black hair was now separated by streaks of brighter, yet softer color. From where she stood, she could see a bright blue and a bright purple peeking through the blackness. Sure enough, she could see that in the sink were a few dyes of color still lingering in the bowl. There were a couple cleaning supplies on the counter, so Tadashi was clearly planning on scrubbing it up still. For now, he must have been drying out Hiro's hair after rinsing it.

A smile twitched the edge of her lip upwards. And, feeling a little stupid for doing so, she stated: "You dyed your hair."

Hiro grimaced and was quick to try and fix whatever he thought was an issue. "Just some parts of it, not all of it. And— and Tadashi did it. It was…it was his idea. But I liked it," he added on. "I thought…you know, I just thought that this would be a good way for me to…it was just, I couldn't really stop…" He paused for a long moment. He swallowed around a lump in his throat before he could go on. His voice turned a little bit more level, and he started out slow. "I couldn't look at me…and see… _me_."

The last word fell a little heavy, and that was because it _was_ heavy. It struck Cass upside the head, and she stiffened at first, her eyes widening a little bit in pain. "Oh, honey…" Her voice was hushed, and she took a small step forward, so that she could run her fingers through his hair. She watched the colored strands disappear, and then fall down into place, right back where they were. This brought a tender smile on her face, and she tilted her head to the side, looking back at him fully in the face now. "Does this help?" she asked, in barely a mumble. "Does this help you to see _you_?"

He turned just a little bit so that he could look in the mirror. She noticed that once his eyes flickered up to the hair that had been changed in color, he seemed to light up just a little bit more. Tadashi grinned as well, clearly more than pleased at how his idea had panned out. Hiro turned back to Aunt Cass and offered a small nod. "Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, I think so." He said it hesitantly, as if he was too afraid to show too much hope. It crushed Cass to realize this, but at least it was something. She would take anything by this point.

She grinned widely, and felt her eyes sting with happiness. Hiro smiled too, and Aunt Cass ducked forward to press her forehead down against his. She closed her eyes tightly, and her fingers stayed in his hair as she gave a small laugh. "Then I love it," she gushed.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: So I lied about the reintroducing the character again. That'll come later. I am trying to cut down the length of the chapters, and I guess that technically speaking, 17 pages _is_ shorter. Kind of. Pft. Honestly, if my prediction is right, there's only about three or four more chapters left in this story before I draw it to a close. Which is very bittersweet, given that I _do_ love this work, and I am very proud of it. Regardless of whether or not I get the feedback _number_ that I want, I _am_ grateful for the feedback that I do get, because you all are very sweet. So thank you for those of you that take the time to tell me what you think about my work! I appreciate it so much.

A guest asked a question, and, given that I cannot PM them, I hope you all don't mind if I answer it here! I know I mentioned it before that I was going back and forth on whether or not to add romance in this. As far as it goes now, though, I have made the decision that it will not be a point of interest at all. This story is about Hiro and the Hamada family and what they go through. It would be wrong to swivel over to the side and add something else distracting to it. Most of what I have portrayed so far can be just accepted as close friendship, despite whatever couples I _do_ support. I hope you all think the same.

But yeah! College for me, if anyone isn't already annoyed by the updates, starts technically August 17th. Like I said before, I will do my best to keep up with updates. It will go by easier the more I take lengths off of chapters, which will get easier to do towards the end like we are. Please have patience with me. And like I said, I'm leaning back into that ten review standard just to make sure I don't over-focus on one story, or abandon another. But this story never really has trouble with that. So.

Long author's note! Forgot I had to answer that question, haha. Anyways. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope to hear your thoughts on it! Next chapter I've been planned for quite some time, now. Almost as long as I've been planning the last chapter, which I've been looking forward to writing ever since, like, chapter ten. So I've got a lot to look forward to! Hopefully you guys feel the same!

Please review! It helps me out a bunch! Questions, concerns, alarming typos, you know the drill!

(Sooooooooo many people are worried about Nozomi. Don't you worry, I just gotta get there! Sorry it has to take so long...)


	23. Chapter 23

The lights were shut off. Everyone was gathered around the table in a closely-knit group. Because this moment had been followed closely by pent-up excitement, the singing was even louder and even more obnoxious than it usually was, which was a pretty impressive feat, and one that Hiro didn't think was possible. With the slightest discomfort, he just sat and looked down at the cake in front of him, his smile a little awkward and flustered. Aunt Cass was standing at his shoulder, brimming with happiness and emotion as she led the party in song. Tadashi and his friends were all seated around the table, and they looked just as enthralled as Aunt Cass was with the fact that they got to sing this song.

" _Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, Dear Hiro! Happy birthday to you!_ "

The song dissolved into cheers and clapping, and that was Hiro's cue to lean forward and suck in a sharp breath. After he stopped to make a wish, because Aunt Cass so frequently reminded him to as she had set the cake up, he blew out each candle. All sixteen of them. Once he was able to do so, and the smoke curled up into the air, every single person in the room erupted into huge applause. Hiro grinned sheepishly, and the smile only grew more frazzled as Fred leaned over and shook his shoulder. " _Alright_! Look out, San Fransokyo! This devil's _street legal!_ "

"Congratulations, Hiro!" Honey Lemon cheered. Her smile was sweet as she looked over at him.

Gogo offered him a phony salute. "How's it feel to be an old man?"

Hiro made an embarrassed face. He shook his head, looking back down at the cake. "It feels fine," he managed awkwardly. He cleared his throat, then, so that he could speak a little bit louder. "Thanks for…" He meant to say something that was normal. Like when other people say "Thanks for coming!" whenever people come to celebrate your birthday, even though, at the root of the event, it had been a really, very awful experience in terms of sociality. But he found that this was warranting a little bit more, so he finished in a way that was different than what he originally intended. "Thanks for everything," he amended.

Everyone melted a little at the sentiment. Wasabi and Tadashi exchanged a small smile, and Honey Lemon's hand strayed up to clasp over her heart. Aunt Cass beamed and leaned down to plant a tender kiss on top of his head. "I'll get the plates!" she declared, already spinning and turning around. She left the group of kids by themselves as she hurried back towards the cabinets.

Fred took the opportunity to lean over and elbow Hiro a few times in the arm. "So!" he egged. "Have you driven yet? Or is Tadashi being way too lame to let you try?" Tadashi shot him a look with this, but it was clear that Fred didn't really care. He just turned enough to stick his tongue out at him.

"Uh— no," Hiro mumbled. "I haven't— I haven't tried driving yet."

Fred was outraged. " _Tadashi_!" The way he said his friend's name made it sound like Tadashi had killed his firstborn without any warning prior. "You are depriving your little brother of something _magical_ , you've got to teach him how to drive!" Tadashi sighed and rested his chin on his hand. Patience seemed to be something he had a huge amount of when it came to Tadashi. It was probably a trait adopted after spending so much time with him. "You've got to teach him how to monitor the roads of San Fransokyo." Before the other could say anything, he rushed to declare: "If you won't, I will!"

Wasabi piped up blandly. "Fred, nobody wants you to teach _anyone_ how to drive."

"Because if I _did_ , there would be no more business for auto insurance," Fred huffed.

Gogo rolled her eyes. "No need for _life_ insurance, either."

Hiro shifted just a little bit, his hands wringing together as he glanced over at Tadashi. His older brother turned as well, and, catching his gaze, raised his eyebrows. "Well, Knucklehead?" he asked. Hiro stiffened, but in a way that wasn't noticeable. "You want to steal Aunt Cass' car? Take a joyride?"

He scrambled for something to say. His mouth was open just a little bit, but he came up mute. Tadashi started to seem a little put-off by the slow reply, and so it came across as a relief when Aunt Cass rushed back to the table. She was laden down with plates for everyone, which she began to pass out. "I hope everyone likes vanilla!" she chirped. "But you all should like it regardless, because _I_ made it!" This part came out in more of a song than speech.

She turned and picked up the knife that she had brought over to cut the cake with. The motion pulled Hiro's attention, and once it did, his eyes flashed. The smile that was on his face before, however anxious it had been, was now completely gone. He bit down on his lower lip and watched as Cass took the blade and started to push it down through the frosting. Absently, one hand went up to run over the scar that now marred his arm.

' _Then take me to the hospital.'_

"Hiro?"

He instantly snapped to attention. He blinked a few times and found himself coughing out of habit, just to make sure that he didn't have anything stuck in his throat. "Y-Yes!" he said, a little bit too loudly. He found himself grimacing away from the accidental shout. Sure enough, when he looked up at Cass, she seemed a little startled. "Sorry!" he yelped, realizing with a stab of shock that his heart was hammering up against his ribcage now. "I didn't…what did you say?"

Cass glanced down at the cake, disconcerted. "I…asked you what you wished for!" she said, injecting happiness back into her voice. "You _did_ make a wish, right?"

He had to buffer in order to process the question. He looked down at the plate that was suddenly in front of him now, and the slice that he'd been given. Everyone at the table was staring at him now, and the easygoing atmosphere had fizzled out in the newfound tension. Even Fred wasn't saying anything. And Honey Lemon was looking a little sad. So he cleared his throat, and said the first thing that came to him. "Uh— I can't tell you what I wished for." Taking after Cass, he tried to make himself just as bubbly. He was a little bad at it, though. "Then it won't come true."

She blanched for a second. "Oh. Right! Duh." She laughed a little bit, beginning to recover her grin. "How silly of me. Is that— is that slice big enough for you?" she asked. "Do you want some more? Or— or maybe you don't like that size to begin with? You want a smaller slice?"

"No." Everyone was still looking at him, and Hiro was kicking himself for being the reason because of it. That split second where it just felt like any other day was long gone now. "It's fine." Listlessly, he reached over and picked up his fork. He stabbed through the cake, watching it sink down with a duller expression. Cass was cutting the last of the slices, and Hiro's eyes flickered over once more to the knife that was in her hands. His stomach twitched over as he remembered how it had felt to try and keep the blade in his trembling hands. He felt sick at the thought— at the memory of how agonizing it had felt to rip open his own skin.

And the hollow dread he had felt when he'd realized, once he had managed to get together some sort of coherence, that it was all for nothing.

He tried to ignore the eyes that kept glancing over in his direction. He just scooped off a bite of the cake and stuck it in his mouth, forcing his jaw to work at the pastry and trying to ignore how it tasted like chalk.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Alright! So!" Tadashi turned to look over at Hiro, his grin stretching from ear-to-ear. Going by his eyes alone, you could see the excitement that was already there. Hiro recognized this and felt a pull of guilt, at first. And then a strong of determination, with the realization that he officially had no other choice at the moment. Currently, he was seated behind the steering wheel of Aunt Cass' car. Tadashi had driven all the way here, to a store that had a wide enough parking lot, so that they could have room for error. He had tried to find one that was empty, but with San Fransokyo as cramped as it was, that was a little bit too high of a hope. They had switched seats a little clumsily, and now the task of teaching was up to the older brother.

And Hiro now had the task of…

His forehead creased a little bit. Apprehension flared like fire over his face; he had slipped his hands underneath his legs long ago, in the attempt to hide this emotion. "Uh…um, I was…so…" He turned to look at his older brother, halfway alarmed. "Tell me what to do." The request came out surprisingly pleading.

Tadashi took his nerves as typical. He remembered when Aunt Cass had taught him to drive— that had been even worse. The moment he had gotten out into the road, she was screaming about every little thing; her eyes had looked like they were about to bug out of her sockets. Needless to say, Tadashi never really liked it when Aunt Cass took him out driving. "It's fine!" he reassured, already making a mental note to be much more calming than Cass had been. "Here, just reach over and put your hands on ten and two."

Hiro looked back. His eyebrows were knitted together in caution. He tried to ignore the lump in his throat, and he quickly reached out to clamp his hands down where they needed to go. His knuckles went white in the effort to hide how he was shaking. Instantly, Tadashi perked with approval, and then looked down at Hiro's feet. The casted leg was a little awkward to deal with, but thankfully enough, it was the wrong leg to begin with. The one on the accelerator was perfectly fine. "Okay, you have to put your foot down on the brake to shift the car into drive."

Hiro hesitantly obeyed, and Tadashi did the work of shifting it for him, making sure that he could see how it worked. "Alright, now you just have to ease your foot down on the gas." Hiro didn't move at first, though, and so his smile turned a little awkward. "Take your foot off the brake, Knucklehead," he accentuated. Hiro followed directions, and he stiffened a bit as the car started to roll forward. "Alright," Tadashi pressed. "Now you just have to start pushing on the gas. Just a little bit, so we don't—"

The warning came a little late, and he was cut off with a gasp of surprise as he was thrown forward. He would have hit the dashboard, had it not been for the fact that immediately after, Hiro slammed on the brake, and he was thrown backwards right into the seat. He was left reeling for a second, and Hiro whipped around to look at him in alarm. "I'm sorry!" he squeaked. "I didn't mean to! I just…" He turned back front, his eyes wide as he looked at the lot in front of him. "I can't do this," he whined. "You should just drive us back home."

"No! It's fine!" Tadashi reassured him. "Don't worry! Everyone is a little bad their first time around. I almost hit a mailbox." That wasn't true, but it didn't matter. Looking at Hiro now, Tadashi felt a tug of sorrow. If everything was different, and none of what happened had _happened_ , Hiro would already have his license by now, Tadashi was sure of it. Hiro had used to be so outgoing and restless. He probably would have hopped behind the steering wheel of a car the second he turned fifteen, and he would have turned and sprinted down to the DMV before he could even blow out the candles on his sixteenth birthday, to get his license. If things had been different, Tadashi was sure that Hiro would have loved to drive. He would have been hard to get _out_ of the driver's seat, most likely.

Now, it looked like he was almost too scared to even touch the wheel.

"Go on," Tadashi tried, his voice a little softer. "Go ahead and try again. Put the _tiniest_ bit of pressure on the gas, and then you can go from there if you feel comfortable enough."

When Hiro glanced over at him again, Tadashi could tell that he would rather have not. But whatever distress his little brother harbored apparently wasn't strong enough to win him over. He sighed, and it came out shaky and weak. When Hiro focused back front, he relented and gripped the steering wheel tightly before pointing his foot down towards the floor. His heart still leapt up into his throat once the car gave the resounding lurch forward. He struggled to control himself and sucked in a deep breath, trying his best to focus. He just needed a little bit of focus, and maybe it wouldn't be too hard…

The car's wheels turned slowly, and therefore, the car started to inch along the pavement. Tadashi's smile was growing with this progress— progress it was, despite the fact that it was slow. "There you go!" he cheered. "Look at you! You're figuring it out!" In the back of his mind, he remembered the fact that Aunt Cass had asked him to take a picture of Hiro's first time driving. Something that both of them had, at one point, doubted they would ever get to see. Maybe he would wait a little bit, though, until Hiro looked like he was actually enjoying himself. "It's not too hard, is it?"

Hiro managed a hesitant nod. The motion was singular though, and hardly noticeable.

They were still going about .2 miles an hour, though.

"Here, try to go a little bit faster," Tadashi urged. "Press down on the gas more."

Hiro was starting to remind Tadashi of a turtle, though. With every prod or poke, he just seemed to get more and more flustered, and he looked like he would rather have a shell to retreat back into. "I don't want to go any faster," he mumbled, adjusting his hold on the steering wheel to hang tighter, as if he needed to do anything of the sort. "If I go too fast, I won't be able to control it." Despite the rejection, the words were softer than they were supposed to be. It sounded more apologetic than anything else.

"You'll be able to control it, Hiro," Tadashi corrected. At his brother's doubtful wince, he softened just a little bit. "Look, I know it's weird and new. But a lot of things are weird and new, you know? You've just got to trust me that it'll be fine. That you'll be okay if you go just a little bit faster." Hiro hesitated, and Tadashi was fully prepared for yet another complaint or whine. But to his surprise, and relief, his baby brother just sighed and pressed his foot down a little more.

The car picked up speed. He watched the speedometer rise in numbers steadily. Past fifteen and then past twenty. Energized, Tadashi found that it was hard to keep himself from beaming as he looked forward. "Alright, you can turn around now and then go into that section of the lot," he said, leaning over so that he could gesture over to the next lane. Hiro bit down on his lower lip, his eyebrows pulling together once again in concern and anxiety. Tadashi wasn't looking, though; he was just staring ahead. "Just pull the wheel all the way to the left. The car will follow you, so don't worry."

Hiro did not reply audibly. But he did obey. Still hanging onto the wheel with a grip fit to strangle a person, he tugged all the way to the left, alarmed by how quickly the vehicle reacted to the change in direction. It immediately veered to the side, and Hiro gasped sharply at the uneven lurch. His stomach was in knots, and, without thinking, he moved to slam on the brakes for a second time. Just like the first, the two were left to jerk forward and then back as a result of the screeching halt. It was made all the more worse, and Hiro was made all the more upset, when he could clearly hear his brother curse in distress underneath his breath.

He turned to look at the driver in shock. "Why'd you stop? You were doing so well!"

Hiro was burning from head to toe by now. "I— I just, I didn't…it went really fast, and—" He fell into a bout of silence for about five whole seconds before he caved and repeated himself in a hollowed-out whine. "Can we just go home? I really don't…" Hiro turned back front, looking from the steering wheel, to the parking lot in front of him, with extreme dislike. "I really don't like this. I don't want to do this."

Tadashi's chest constricted at the tone of voice he was using. It sounded like he was in physical pain from doing this simple thing. This simple thing that everyone not only did, but oftentimes found joy and freedom in. He had thought that this would be perfect for Hiro. He could get a sense of normalcy, for one thing. But Tadashi had also hoped that he would find comfort in driving. After all, he would be able to go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted, with a license. Why wouldn't this be something he could find comfort in? Unable to resist the pull of the suggestion, Tadashi reluctantly pushed himself to stay confident. "Just try to finish the turn." Hiro closed his eyes tightly. "If you finish this turn, and you still don't want to do it, we can go home."

He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. He was on the borderline of insisting to stop even more, and Tadashi realized that. He could tell that Hiro wasn't enjoying himself. That the idea of driving not only did not appeal to him, but it was being thoroughly repulsed at the moment. So Tadashi waited for the complaints— the finality to the argument. But Hiro just closed his eyes tightly one last time before snapping them open and nodding once. He reached out for the wheel, and he took his foot off the brake, shifting it over instead to the accelerator.

He started slow, trying to maneuver around the curb that separated one section of the parking lot from the other. "You can go faster," Tadashi managed, just feeling awkward in his attempts at helping now, and feeling like he was just making it worse, which was probably correct. Hiro glanced over at him, and then proceeded to do so. They were over twenty again, and then around twenty-five. Hiro was tense, but he was accomplishing the feet of turning the car around for the first time, turning into the other lane and successfully evening himself out even without the help of his older brother.

Tadashi lightened bit by bit, and he turned to look at Hiro and realized that the same was happening for his brother. There was still apprehension on his face, but it was much less than before. Instead, there was a certain amount of light that was leaking into his eyes. It was a light that Tadashi hadn't really seen since Hiro had been back, but used to see all the time— that spark of interest or investment that Hiro would always get when he was doing something. Like when he used to build things, or learn something new, or report a fact that he had just registered. It was interest, and to see that in his baby brother again was like seeing the sun after months of nothing but rain and thunderstorms.

"See?" Tadashi asked, unable to keep the amount of happiness in his voice in check. He was practically gushing with it, and he might have been a little embarrassed if he could have brought himself to care about such a trivial fact. "You're doing great! You were made to be behind the wheel! You're like Speed Racer right now, it's really impressive."

Hiro was beginning to grin. He looked flustered at the praise, and if they were under normal circumstances, he probably would have told Tadashi to shut up. Now, he just absorbed the praise like a sponge, and he used it as reinforcement to keep driving— to keep the car moving. He kept going down the column of parked cars, holding a constant speed that was relatively normal. Tadashi's smile was stretched ear-to-ear; his eyes were lit up like Christmas tree lights. And before he could stop himself, he stated very bluntly: "I'm proud of you."

Hiro was caught off-guard. He blinked and turned away from the road, so that he could look over at his brother. His eyes were wider than normal, behind those heavy-framed glasses. And with the surprise that was crowding his expression, his mouth was left to hang a little open, as if he was unsure of what to say. For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other— one too floored to say anything, and the other kind of regretful that they had spoken such a thing in the first place.

Tadashi was the first to snap to attention. He glanced over to the front, and his eyes flew wide immediately. "Hiro, Hiro, the _road_!" he yelled, unable to check himself in his distress. Hiro whipped back at once, already more than horrified at whatever had happened while he had let his attention wander. Sure enough, the unchecked car was currently barreling towards someone who was in the middle of crossing the lane, trying to get to their own vehicle. The moment that Hiro registered what was happening, so did the pedestrian. The woman turned, stiffening and going rigid at the realization that there was suddenly a car heading right for her.

"Brake!" Tadashi yelled. Before he could even finish the word, though, he was already leaning over to grab one side of the steering wheel, so that he could jerk it to the side. The car wrenched itself to the side, narrowly avoiding the person that had been in its path. And the wheels screamed against the pavement when Hiro slammed his foot down on the brake as hard as he possibly could. This time, Tadashi did hit his head— against the window, as he was jostled from the unexpected screech. Hiro was hit too— his forehead made painful contact with the top of dashboard.

Tadashi waited tensely for the airbag to go off, but thankfully enough, it did not. The older of the two was quick to take responsibility. He turned in his seat, looking for the person they had nearly plowed over. He needed to see whether or not they were okay, and he sure as heck needed to apologize, regardless of whatever state they were in. His face fell, though, as he realized that the person had already started to march away. He had turned just in time to see her start to get into her car and throw a withering glower in their direction. Tadashi made a move to open the car door and get out. He had to at least try and make some kind of amend.

But before he could, she was already slamming her door and starting the engine.

There was nobody else near the scene; nobody else he could apologize to, despite the fact he felt like he should have _some_ kind of conversation with _somebody_. To be frank, he had never gotten into a situation like this before with his own driving. So, however reluctantly, he blew out a wheezing gust of air and turned back front in his seat. His heartbeat was still a little fast in his ears, and his head was throbbing a little bit from its contact with the window.

He turned over to look at Hiro and realized with a stab of sorrow that his little brother appeared panicked and shell-shocked. The younger of the two was staring blankly straight ahead, his eyes wide and terrified. He was shaking too— very visibly. Tadashi hesitated for a moment or two, trying his best to figure out how to handle things. Eventually, he drew in another weak gasp of air before offering something that loosely resembled a laugh. "You really are Speed Racer, huh?" he laughed. "I didn't think you had it in you!"

Hiro didn't reply. He didn't even blink. He just stared distantly ahead, his mouth completely dry.

Tadashi leaned a little bit closer. "Hiro?" he asked, his voice a little gentler.

The younger of the two closed his eyes again. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. "I don't want to do this anymore."

Tadashi weakened. His shoulders slumped a little bit, and he tried a little lamely: "Hiro, don't be upset." He leaned over, putting his hand on his shoulder and trying not to notice how much he stiffened at the contact. "Everyone makes mistakes. You didn't mean to almost—"

He couldn't finish.

" _I said I don't want to do this anymore_!" Hiro screamed. Tadashi immediately wrenched backwards at the sudden increase in volume. Hiro registered the sudden yell. He gasped a few times in and out, struggling to keep himself as together as possible. He reached up with shaking hands to press them against his forehead. He shook his head from side to side, disappointment and heaviness hanging themselves over him like a cloud. He didn't look over at his brother; he couldn't. He just finished the plea as best he could, sounding like a balloon losing the last bit of its air. "Please don't make me do this…"

Silence. Complete and harrowing silence. It gripped the entire car for what felt like forever, though it could have been just about a minute or so. Tadashi stared at his brother. Or…he stared at the person he was trying desperately to associate as his brother. This was someone different. Someone shaking and filled with fear. Haunted by something Tadashi couldn't even begin to fathom, both physically and mentally. He bit down on his lower lip, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. He felt a swell of sadness so strong, he could hardly breathe against it.

He tried the best thing he could think of. "Hiro."

He waited until Hiro turned to meet his gaze. He did not fail to notice every ounce of anxiety in his brother's face, and the fact that his eyes were much shinier than they normally were, and red around the edges. He was still trembling like a leaf. So Tadashi offered him a weak smile and reached out, trying to go slow, as to not alarm him even more. He placed his hand on his arm and rubbed it comfortingly. "I'm proud of you," he repeated.

Hiro offered him a smile. But it was a watery smile, and one that conveyed only sadness. His eyes welled up even more, and his voice cracked a little bit as he mumbled: "I haven't done anything to make anyone proud of me." Somehow, Tadashi thought the reply was originally meant to be a joke. But the humor fell flat.

Tadashi shook his head. He shifted his hold on Hiro and leaned over so that he could pull his younger brother into a tight hug. He put his chin down on his shoulder and tugged him close, clearly not intent on letting him go. He waited for a long moment, and sure enough, Hiro moved to cling just as tightly to him. Tadashi could feel his little brother still shaking, and there was a clenched sound of a barely-constrained sniff from where Hiro buried his head. But his grip stayed tight, and it stayed anchoring him down into reality.

"No," Tadashi pressed, his voice just as choked as he listened to his baby brother. "You've done _everything_."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro sat silent in the passenger seat. Though Tadashi had taken over driving, and Hiro had finally been allowed back on the other side of the car, it was clear by his body language that his nerves were still very much torn and frayed. His posture was stiff and rigid, and the entire ride back, he did not utter a single syllable. Tadashi had tried once or twice to break the silence, but he'd realized soon enough that such a thing was pointless. Instead, he adopted the same quiet, and the two resigned themselves to a mute ride to the café.

Though every so often, Tadashi would succumb to worry and look over at Hiro. Thankfully enough, his brother was not crying, and he wasn't even shaking. He was just turned over towards the window, looking out as the streets of San Fransokyo slid by. However, his eyes seemed crowded with thought, and there was a pensive frown on his face. The look he wore was distant and faraway, like he was seeing something over the horizon that Tadashi could not. The expression was familiar now, when it came to Hiro. Or at least, it was familiar for Tadashi to see. He knew that when Hiro got this way, it was best to leave him alone, and not prod. To let him sort through his thoughts so that they did not fall apart and bury him.

Peace and quiet was what Hiro wanted and needed, and so it was going to be something that Tadashi would be more than willing to give. So when the elder of the two turned down the street that led to the Lucky Cat Café, he felt an instant punch to the stomach at the sight that met him. They had left pretty early in the morning, in the attempt to get in and out with little to no disruptions. But coming up to the restaurant, they both instantly sat up a little bit straighter.

There was a huge crowd of people outside the café. Surely more than thirty people, at the very least. They were crammed up on the sidewalk, staying rooted to the pavement against those that were actually trying to move and make their way down the city street. Some held microphones, and some held cameras. Some had notebooks to write in, and some didn't have anything at all. But they were all in front of the building that Tadashi and Hiro called home. It was the usual crowd— not a day had gone by since the area was clear. Tadashi had even had to shove his way through it a few times, getting back from school.

But Hiro had never had to do anything of the sort.

Biting down hard on his lower lip, Tadashi pulled up so that he could park the car along the street. While he did that, Hiro just stared blankly at the crowd, who roused and picked up in volume at the sight of the approaching vehicle. There was shouting and yelling, and there were a few flashes of lights from cameras. Hiro wilted, slouching down with a small wince. Seeing this, Tadashi leaned over so that he could catch his little brother's eye. "I'll tell them to leave," he promised, his voice tinged over with anger at the ignorance of the people outside. "You don't have to deal with this. You shouldn't have to."

Hiro shifted uncomfortably. "You shouldn't either," he protested a little lamely.

But this just made Tadashi's chest hurt even worse. He shook his head, making sure that the motion was firm. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine." Hiro just looked over at him dubiously, and so he went on. "Look, you just stay in the car." He turned, making a move to open his car door and step out. "I'll get them all to leave, and then we can—"

"No, I'm…" Hiro exhaled quickly, as if he was trying to blow away all of his apprehensions. "No, it's fine. Just…" He threw out his arms. "Just hand me my crutches." They had been stowed away in the backseat to try and make room. Tadashi hesitated, obviously more than concerned. Hiro just repeated himself. "Hand me my crutches. It can't be that hard to walk five feet." There was a sense of determination in his voice, though Tadashi had to wonder whether or not it was that way because he was truly confident, or just willing himself to be.

He stared at him levelly for a while. Then: "You don't have to."

Hiro paused, and took that time to take in a deep breath. But eventually he said a simple: "I don't have to do a lot of things."

Tadashi tried to scrounge for an argument, but he came up empty-handed. He just nodded and turned, reaching back so that he could grab up the crutches and hand them over to his baby brother. Hiro accepted them gratefully, and while he arranged himself, Tadashi got out of the car and rounded over to the other side. The crowd broke out into loud yelling at the sight of the young man, but it was nothing compared to the noise that was sparked at the sight of Hiro, once he stepped out. It was a little bit of an awkward transition, thanks to his leg. But he managed to get upright and stable all on his own, without any help.

Hiro had gone to and from the house a few times. After all, he had to go and speak to his therapist, and be able to get physical therapy as well. But he always had Aunt Cass with him, who knew how to silence any person with the simplest glower, and keep them in check. The crowd had never been this big, either— this incessant. Maybe a few people had tried to get his attention and call him over before, but this was far more than 'a few.' Tadashi could tell when Hiro stood up and got the lay of the land, that he was more than overwhelmed, and possibly regretting getting out at all. People were yelling his name, and vying for his attention from every which way, before he could even bring himself to take his first step forward.

Tadashi turned so that he could wrap his arm around his little brother's shoulders protectively. His eyes narrowed into slits, and as they started for the door, he tried to hone his inner 'Cass.' "We're just trying to get through!" he snapped, not afraid to be harsh, for once. "C'mon, move aside!" He tried to herd Hiro along as fast as he could, though they were hindered, thanks to Hiro limp. He wasn't the only one to feel the anxious need to rush— Hiro was completely stiff, and underneath everyone's stares, he was reduced down to small tremors every so often.

Someone with a camera snapped another picture, shouting out Hiro's name to try and get his attention. "Hiro! Hiro, over here! Hiro, I have a question!"

Hiro's eyes flickered down to the sidewalk; he gave up and simply let Tadashi guide them, which the older brother was perfectly content to do.

Another reporter cried: "Hiro! Have you been keeping up with everything that is happening with Callaghan!? Can I have your thoughts on any of it!?"

"Hiro, is it true that Callaghan forced you to go days without food!?"

"Hiro, can you tell us anything that hasn't been said yet!?"

Tadashi tried to combat the screams with some of his own. "We don't have time right now! He doesn't have any comments!" With this yell, though, they got to the café. Tadashi let go of his brother so that he could move and hold open the door. Hiro could slip inside first, Tadashi would follow suit, and they would slam the door on all these people without a single hesitation. But no sooner did he let go of Hiro, did someone break away from the crowd and rush forward.

It was some woman with twin braids in her hair. She was holding her phone up next to her mouth— it was probably taking some kind of audio recording. "Hiro!" Hiro stiffened and glanced over his shoulder. A mistake, considering everyone around them instantly took the turn as a sign of consent. The moment that the young boy turned, most of the yelling died down to absolutely nothing. The woman's eyebrows raised, and she ignored the dirty look at that Tadashi whirled around to shoot at her. Her attention was reserved instead for Hiro. And before the elder of the brothers could move to deny her, she asked the boy steadily: "Hiro, did you ever consider Robert Callaghan to be your father?" There was hardly a second of pause before she added: "And if so, do you still think that way?"

Hiro blinked slowly. His eyes flickered down to look between her and the recorder, and then up to the rest of the crowd that was now clustering around to try and hear the reply he had to give. Tadashi, on the other hand, was having none of it. He was scowling hard, practically bristling with anger. He held the door open with one hand, and he grabbed hold of Hiro's shoulder with his other, to try and rein him back towards where they were headed. From inside the café, Aunt Cass had realized that her two nephews were home. She was alerted by the crowd, and had veered over towards the pair. Now, she was standing near the doorway, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly ajar.

"Leave him alone," Tadashi growled at the woman, trying to tug Hiro back. "Can't you see that—?"

"I don't have a dad." The words were small and quiet, almost a little scared to be there. But they were there all the same. Tadashi's face fell, and he looked down at Hiro, who was somehow drawing up enough courage to make eye contact with this person. Nobody was speaking at all now— if someone dropped a pin, it would made a sound akin to a nuclear explosion. Hiro was glad that he had the excuse to hold tight to his crutches, so that nobody would able to tell that his hands were shaking. "I have a brother. And I have an aunt. And that's all that I need. It's all I've ever wanted."

The woman stared at him expectantly, waiting for more.

Hiro knew that he probably looked completely pathetic. He was slightly out of breath, and leaning awkwardly to the side on his stupid crutches. He wanted dignity. He wanted normalcy. He wanted something that was more than what he already was, and what he looked like to other people. The question stung at his skin and burned him like a brand— a brand of something that anyone could see when they looked at him. What could he do in response to it?

Hiro tried to draw himself up as best he could, and he took in a quick breath. "And I think if you went through half of what I did, you would realize how dumb of a question it was that you just asked," he mumbled, still sounding half-apologetic. Tadashi's eyes lit up just a little bit at this, and a small hint of a smile started to spread itself over his face. Aunt Cass' reaction seemed the same; she looked at Hiro with a mixture of typical sorrow, but also a little bit of pride with his response.

Those were the only reactions he was looking for, though. He was already turning away from the crowd, anxious to get back into his house, where it didn't matter as much what happened to him, or how he looked like to other people. Right now, all he wanted to do was lay down and curl away from everything— not think for a while. "Until you do, I would suggest you don't let yourself think otherwise," he concluded, his back already to her as he went inside.

The woman hung back, looking startled at the response. Obviously, it was nowhere near what she expected. Tadashi turned and offered her the smuggest smile he could possibly manage. "Please stop hanging out in front of our house," he requested. Then he turned, stepping over the threshold and shutting the door behind him firmly.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

The phone was like a dead weight in her hand. It felt like it was burning through her palm and marring the skin forever— marking it with the guilt that was already seeping through her veins like blood. For a moment, after lowering the device from her ear, she merely stared straight ahead, trying to figure out what her next move should be. But after a moment, Cass knew that she couldn't prolong things for very long. She didn't have an unlimited amount of time; she was on the clock.

So she turned and got up from her bed, drawing a hand through her hair loosely before turning and making her way out towards the living room. She had excused herself to take the phone call, holing away into her room for privacy that she knew she would need. It was pity that she could not keep the privacy— that she was now forced to spread _this_ to people other than her.

Well…to one specific person.

"Hiro?" she called, pushing out of her room and heading back out. The television was on. Given that Tadashi was at school right now, there wasn't much debate as to where her nephew was. And sure enough, once she rounded the corner, she was met with the sight of Hiro curled up on the couch, like he usually was. His hair – spotted over and streaked with the dark colors that Tadashi had helped him pick out – was messy and unruly. He hadn't brushed it today, and that worried her. It worried her too that he didn't rouse at once at the sound of his name; he just kept looking straight ahead.

"Hiro?" she repeated, walking a little bit closer. "Honey, I have someone on the phone for you to—" She broke off, her eyes dragged over to the side and catching on the television. She stopped immediately, once she saw what was on the screen. She had almost forgotten— that it was still recorded, that was. She couldn't ever forget the night. It was the old recording she had stored of the night that they had been on the news, on the night that they had the candlelight vigil for Hiro. For the life of her, Aunt Cass couldn't remember why it would still be recorded on the DVR. But somehow, here it was, and here Hiro was, watching the funeral-like gathering from the comfort of his home.

She realized with a jolt that she recognized where the camera was going, already. Currently, it was just on her and Tadashi. On the TV, Cass had just finished speaking about her nephew, tearfully and emotionally. Now, the camera was shifting over to the side, just in time to track Callaghan emerging from the crowd. Cass tried to open her mouth and get something out— something that would possibly redeem herself in some way, shape, or form. Or at the very least, she wished that she could tell Hiro to turn off the program, or change it to something else.

But she was silent, and so was Hiro. Almost dumbly, the two of them just watched as, on the old news footage, Callaghan held on to Cass tightly, hugging her close and offering her tender words of comfort. Reassurance that, at the time, Cass took as perfectly genuine and heartfelt. Looking back at it now, she just felt sick and nauseous— something that, she was sure, was nothing compared to what Hiro must be feeling in seeing it. It felt like years with two of them just staring at the screen in front of them. Staring at the pain-stricken pair hugging close to the person that had kidnapped the last piece to them.

Cass finally managed to speak. "You shouldn't be watching this," she managed. She turned quickly, the phone slipping her mind for the moment. "I can explain— we didn't— we couldn't ever think that—"

Hiro wasn't even listening, though. He didn't even look away from the screen, but he spoke up regardless. "Do you think he knew?" he asked bluntly.

She stilled. "What?" she asked. "What do you mean, Hiro?"

His forehead creased just a little bit. "Do you think he knew what he was doing? Do you think…he knew that he was hurting me? _Us_? Or…or do you think…he just… _didn't_?" he finished lamely. He blinked slowly, and moved to hug himself around the midsection. "Do you think that he was just…too messed up to do anything else?" His voice was nothing more than a rasp. "He was…he was just…really messed up."

She swallowed painfully, unsure of what she should say. "I don't know, baby. But I know that…regardless of what he thought…he _did_ hurt people. He hurt _you_." Her voice cracked a little bit on that last part. Her hand curled a little bit tighter around her phone as she distantly heard the sound of a voice coming through from the other end. "And I think that's the only part of it you need to think about. Otherwise you'll find yourself going crazy."

He was silent for a long moment, digesting this idea. Eventually he nodded. "Yeah. I guess." He turned and grabbed the remote, turning off the television completely. He stayed laying down on the couch and just studied the black screen. To anyone just walking in, they would have assumed the device was still on, with all the focus Hiro used in looking straight ahead. But it was thought and sickness that crowded his eyes— not interest or involvement.

Cass glanced down at the floor. She took a deep breath. "Honey, I have someone on the phone for you."

He perked at this and turned, shifting his head over the pillow it rested on. His eyebrows pulled together. "What?" he asked. She might as well have notified him that a fruit wanted to speak with him about the state of the world economy. Nobody _called_ him. Heck, nobody had called him _before_ any of this, either. "Who wants to talk to _me_?" It couldn't be a reporter or anything like that— it had taken Cass days just to tell him that the _police_ wanted to ask him questions.

So what could this be about?

She just sighed and grimaced, stepping forward and offering the phone out towards him. "Here," she said bluntly.

Hiro paused, looking from her, to the phone. Eventually, he forced himself into motion. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and reached over, taking the mobile and putting it up to his ear. He ducked down and studied the blanket that was covering his lap still. He allowed himself just a few more seconds of deliberation before he cleared his throat and croaked out a small: "Hello?"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"They…uhm…they want me to speak. At the— at the…you know, the— the court."

He could hardly get the sentence out as it was.

Ogden looked at him calmly for a few moments, letting the information sink in. He pursed his lips and nodded slowly. "I see," he mused. "And…what do you think about that?"

Hiro stared down at his knees, not daring to raise his eyes up any farther. "I don't know," he mumbled. Glumly, he dragged the toe of his shoe against the carpeting, his eyes tracking the motion carefully. "I think…it would be hard. And…and, I don't know, really. I don't…I don't think I could do it."

"And does that disappoint you?" Ogden asked.

Hiro wilted. His shoulders slumped down in something close to defeat. "A little bit. I think."

"It's not simple. And it's not easy," the therapist pointed out. "To go out there in front of everyone and say your piece— it's very hard. It would entail facing everything that's happened to you, head-on. Not a lot of people would be able to do something like that so quickly. Maybe you just need time, which is perfectly understandable. If you need time, you shouldn't let yourself be let down because of it. Because it _is_ natural."

"But I thought that's what this whole thing was for," Hiro grumbled. "To _'face'_ everything."

"It's what therapy is for, yes," Ogden returned. "It's not what speaking at court trials is for."

Hiro fell silent, his expression heavy.

Ogden cleared his throat. "You told them no, then?"

"I told them I would think about it," he corrected him. "That was just yesterday."

"So is there a part of you that _wants_ to do this?" he asked. "Or was it just because you were unable to tell them no?"

"I think…maybe some part of me does. It's just not sure how to do it," Hiro replied.

Ogden nodded for a while. He seemed to think and contemplate. Finally, he landed on something. "You can only do what you think is best. If you think you would be able to cope with something of that magnitude, I think it would be beneficial for you to get your say in things. But you have to think of every aspect. You have to know that it would be emotional, and it would be difficult. For _anyone_ to do— not just a child of your age." Hiro glanced up at him, seeming doubtful. "For one thing, you would have to see Callaghan again." The boy stiffened considerably at this last part. "And you would have to address _him_ , as well as everyone else in the room."

Hiro sat in silence. He studied his hands, which were clasped tightly together, still. He wilted. "I feel like I can't… _do_ anything else," he confessed in a whisper. "I feel like I'm trapped. And I don't know where to go— everywhere I go, it's just…it seems like a lot. I can't do anything without thinking about him— about what happened to me." His glasses slipped a little bit down his nose— an irritating thing that happened all the time. Hiro had to reach up and push them back into place, sniffing in the process. "When my family and friends wanted to celebrate my birthday, I couldn't think of anything other than being at Callaghan's house, when _he_ made me have a cake, and- and a song. And when Tadashi tried to teach me how to drive...I couldn't…I couldn't do it." He felt his eyes slowly begin to burn with that familiar sting, and that same familiar clawing feeling in his chest. "The entire time, all I could think about was…was just when _I_ got hit by Callaghan's car. I didn't want anything to do with it. I couldn't."

Ogden nodded. "So you think that doing this, you might gain a little bit of closure."

Hiro didn't react.

So the therapist pushed on ahead, slowly but surely. "Do you think that in doing this, you would be able to move on?" Still nothing. The man leaned down a little bit. "Or do you think something _else_ will be able to get you some closure?"

Hiro's eyes flashed at this, and his hands clenched tighter together. But his reply came just as softly. "I don't know."

"Closure comes to everyone at some point. The only thing that differs is what it comes as, or how long it takes," Ogden clarified. "You need to find out what yours is, and you need to make sure that it's what you want." Hiro blinked a few times, seeming thoughtful. "You need to make sure it's what you want, and it's not something that is thrusted onto you. If you do choose to speak at the trial, I would be more than happy to help you with that, if you'd like. But you should choose that because you want to do it; not because somebody asked you, or you think your family would be disappointed in you if you choose to forego it."

"I don't think they would be disappointed," Hiro murmured. He paused for a moment before he smiled just a bit and announced: "Tadashi said he was proud of me. When I drove the car. I don't know why, because I couldn't finish it. But…he said he was proud of me."

Ogden grinned at his patient's smile. "That's good," he approved. "He _should_ be very proud of you. _I'm_ very proud of you. I'm sure your aunt is, too. I think the only person who hasn't felt proud of you so far…is _you._ "

Hiro's smile wavered at this. But he gave in and offered a small, singular nod of agreement.

Ogden wrote something down to make note of. "Do you think there's anything that could happen to maybe help you feel a little bit of that pride? A little bit of that… _satisfaction_ in yourself, and where you've come from? Because you've certainly come from a very low point, Hiro, and you've made quite a lot of progress."

He kept shifting his foot across the carpet. "I don't know," he repeated.

Although he did. Clearly, he did. And so he winced, and fixed his statement. "Maybe a couple things."

Ogden leaned forward even more, invested now. "And what would those 'couple things' be?" he asked.

Hiro stayed looking down for a heartbeat or more. Then he looked up, giving his therapist a smile that was almost too pained to pass as one.

He offered a shrug, and a laugh that was hollowed-out from the inside. "Probably impossible."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: I am not dead! Although sometimes I may feel like it. I've hit a little bit of a rough patch in terms of this thing called 'life' so I apologize for my absence. This chapter is probably the shortest in the entire story, although it _is_ still over ten, so. I hope nobody is _too_ ticked off at me. I've just been dealing with a lot lately, and hardly have any time/energy to devote to things outside of school. I decided that getting this chapter out, and hearing from you all again, might be able to lift my sprits just a little bit though, so I squeezed this out.

It's late, and I don't have time to edit this. I barely had time to get it out in the first place, and I'm slightly impressed I did. So please, if there are any mind-numbing typos or errors, if you would point them out, it would be my pleasure to go back and fix them.

I hope nobody is too angry. And I hope you all will continue to be patient with me. The chapter I mentioned I was excited to write for this installment will actually be the _next_ chapter. With the way this panned out, I couldn't cram it all into one. So it'll be next chapter that I've been planning for a while. As it is, I'm giving this story a max of about two or three more chapters until its end. Which is surreal, because this is probably my favorite in terms of stories I've written. I'll have to drag myself up to give it the ending it deserves!

So thank you all for your patience, and like I said, I've just been in a rather dark spot lately. Hopefully I can get out of it quickly. I _am_ excited to hear from you all though, and what you think will happen next. I hope you liked this chapter, and I hope I could pull it off well despite everything. Like always, thank you for reading!


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: This chapter was going on 25 pages, so I split it up into two chapters. Therefore, I have most of the next chapter done, and will post that as soon as I possibly can. I apologize for the long break; I really, really appreciate your guys' patience. I hit a very, very rough patch for quite some time, and I was very touched for those of you who wished me better things. I'm so relieved and so happy to say that I am beginning to get out of that state of mind. I hope it'll continue to get better for me. And I hope to find more space to get back to writing, since it helps to make me so happy to get these out for you all.

So thank you very much for your patience and your kindness. It means so much to me, and it means so much I can keep writing for you.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It felt like the ground was continuously moving. The wooden floorboards that had been so stable and so structured before, were now nothing more than flimsy rubber. It felt as if everything below him was alternating from bending underneath the strain of whatever weight he had left, to suddenly snapping back into rigidity, and spring him back into place. Up and down, and up and down, everything was bending and spinning and whirling around, so that his head could do nothing but reel and struggle to keep up. It left his stomach queasy and knotted; every so often he would grimace and choke back a small gag to try and make sure that he wouldn't get sick on himself.

He wasn't aware of much. He hardly ever was anymore. All he could focus on was the dizziness of reality, and how hard he was struggling to remain a piece of it. There might have been a few other thoughts as well, but whatever they were, they were not strong enough to breach the fog that was clouding his senses. They might have struggled to do so, but their efforts were completely wasted. Coherent thought was left to fizzle out and disintegrate into nothing, unable to be kept alive long enough to distinguish what was inside of it before it was wiped away.

That was, until there was something physical to latch onto.

He didn't hear the footsteps, and he didn't realize that someone crouched down beside him. He only was roused out of his disoriented stupor once a pressure was applied to his shoulder. The light touch was enough to send his body into a brief spasm, and his teeth clenched down in pain that the motion inflicted. His arm— his arm was on fire. It was _still_ blistering; no matter how much time had passed or dragged by, the flames licking up and down his arm persisted. So the sharp jerk did nothing but increase the ever-present pain, and he could not hold back the high-pitched cry that died in the back of his throat.

Dragging his head up from the floor, which was the equivalent of moving about a hundred pounds, Hiro had to wait for his fuzzy vision to settle just enough so that he could make out the blur that was standing above him. It took a while, and in order to focus, he had to struggle to bypass the nausea that became of the effort. But sure enough, the colors and the shapes that seemed so disjointed eventually fell into place. However, the accomplishment was certainly not met with any sort of comfort. Far from it, actually.

Callaghan was crouched down so that he could be closer to his level. Hiro wasn't able to read his expression— to see whether he was upset or frustrated or angry. Any type of emotion such as that was vital; if Hiro couldn't tell what kind of mood he was in, he couldn't tell how safe he was. But it was hard enough to just be able to see Callaghan in the first place. The idea of straining even more to be able to see finite details, like his expression, wasn't all that possible for him.

Callaghan leaned over more, and sure enough, Hiro flinched as he felt the pressure move from his shoulder to the side of his head that wasn't flush against the ground. Although the touch remained careful, it was still far too intrusive. His head was pounding and throbbing. Hiro felt like he was dying. He wanted some kind of peace— some kind of comfort. And that was what was here— wasn't it? Wasn't Callaghan here to help him? To make him feel better?

Hiro sucked in a breath that sounded more like a gasp than a simple inhale. He grimaced and tried to keep his voice from shaking when he forced himself to speak, though the attempt was far from effective. Nevertheless, his voice did waver up from where he was on the ground, weak and brittle fragile. If someone could have touched the words that managed to escape his throat, they would have disintegrated immediately.

"I feel sick," he whined, in barely a whisper. Callaghan didn't move or react at all to the statement; he didn't even say anything. He just continued to stare down at Hiro, as if he was waiting for something more. But Hiro didn't know what more he could get out. He didn't know what more he could say. Already, from the bottled-up confession, he could feel his eyes begin to sting and burn. So when he went on, his words were noticeably thicker, and softer. "I'm sick," he cried lowly. "M-My arm. It still hurts." The last word was punctured with a flinch, and a gasp that was barely held back.

This did earn a reply from Callaghan. "Well, you hurt yourself very badly."

You _did this. Not him. There's no one to blame but yourself._

 _How pathetic._

Hiro cringed and sniffed. He was getting tired already of holding his head up. "I know," he managed, his voice only getting more and more choked the more he was forced to use it.

That was what he was realizing from all this.

It was much easier to hold back your emotions and tears when you are by yourself, or in the dark.

Then, you don't have to face anything.

Or maybe it's just because of the fact that at least when you're alone, there's no risk of disappointing anyone other than yourself.

He went on, despite the visible trouble that he was struggling with. "Please help," he begged. "Please— I— I feel like—" He cringed away, rather than finishing the statement. He couldn't stomach doing anything of the sort, but at the same time, he didn't really need to. The meaning was there, unable to be ignored. Just like the pain that was embedded deep down into the skin of his arm, all the way from his shoulder, down towards his wrist.

Callaghan seemed to think the same. His worry and his concern melted whatever he might have harbored before, and so he leaned over fully, his arms stretching out so that he could bundle Hiro close. His movements and his hands were careful and calculated, so that he would not harm him more. Still, Hiro's head swam and rocked as he was moved. He had gotten so used to the position he was in, that once he was shifted, it took all that was inside of him not to immediately get sick all over the floor. Instead, he just let out a soft whine that barely broke through the barrier of his teeth.

Callaghan pulled Hiro close to his chest, shifting his hold until he was cradling him protectively. Hiro closed his eyes, letting out a sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding, as he felt the small clench of nerves deep inside his stomach begin to loosen and relax. The pain was still there, and it was still present. But it seemed to dull or at the very least glaze over just a little bit with this touch— with this anchor. It was pushed more to the back of his mind, rather than the forefront. Now, he could just concentrate on the feeling of arms around him, securing him in place, here. He could just concentrate on the fact that Callaghan smelled like fresh air and outside— something that he had not experienced in what felt like lifetimes.

Callaghan reached up with one hand and began to thread his fingers soothingly through the young boy's hair. He began to speak, and the last of Hiro's worries were destroyed, once he realized that the man's voice was soft again, not blank and apathetic. "Don't worry," he comforted. "You're going to be just fine. I promise that I would never let anything bad happen to you. I'm going to keep you safe." Hiro let out a sigh that quivered against his chest on the way up, nearly shaking his whole body. "I'll get you some medicine, how does that sound? Something else that will make you feel better."

Hiro nodded weakly, but at the same time, his hand fisted tightly in Callaghan's shirt. A silent plead for him to stay there with him— to not leave him alone again. He'd been alone for far too long. And when he was alone, he couldn't think about anything but how much his arm, and his back, and his leg, hurt. He couldn't focus on anything but the yawning hole that gaped in his chest. With Callaghan here, he could hardly remember any of those things. With Callaghan here, he was able to breathe easier.

Callaghan must have realized this, because he leaned down and planted a tender kiss on top of his head, letting his lips linger there for a moment before he pulled away. When he did pull away, he spoke up again, only this time, his voice was a little brighter. "You've been very good recently," he remarked, as if he was talking to a preschooler that had gone more than three days without eating the glue out of the stick. "I think I'm prepared to forgive you for the mistake you made."

Hiro didn't react. He couldn't, hardly. He could hardly even breathe— he just waited for whatever was going to come next.

"So I've decided to reward you," Callaghan finished. "Because I hate seeing you so upset."

Hiro did look up at this, more out of confusion than anything else. Callaghan was already moving, leaning out so that he could put Hiro down on the ground. This earned a whine of complaint, Hiro's stomach already dropping out from underneath him the second that their physical connection was broken. This time, though, Callaghan paid no mind to his distress. He just pushed himself up off the ground, turning so that he could make his way for the stairs. Hiro watched him go, even propping up on his good arm just a little bit as his eyes crowded with anxiety. "W-Wait!" he stammered in a quick panic. "Wait, don't— please don't—"

Callaghan didn't listen, and his strides didn't stop. He just scaled the stairway, Hiro growing numb as he heard the small click of the door opening and shutting. For a split second, he was wrapped up in tight fear; he was nearly suffocated with the emotion. His breathing began to pick up, and he slouched back over onto the ground, already sapped from the effort to get himself just a little bit off the floor. In the back of his mind, he was already growing angry at himself for making Callaghan leave, even though he really had no clue why he had left again. But surely it was because of something _he_ did.

He was already sliding back into that panic and fear that swamped him so easily.

But then the click came again— the door reopened. Hiro's eyes snapped open along with it, and his breath did a 180 and suddenly got _stuck_ in his throat. Callaghan's footsteps came back down the stairs, and Hiro went stiff with shock as he saw what the other was holding. What the other had left _in order to get_. It took a second for Hiro to recollect himself enough to remember what it was— to connect the dots and realize what was happening. Because, with everything that had happened, and with how long he had been down here – was it days? weeks? months? years? –, he had almost forgotten.

But it hit him like a punch to the gut. And immediately, his face broke out into a smile of sheer joy.

He couldn't even _remember_ the last time he had smiled as big as this.

"Nozomi!" His voice went so high with elation that it cracked. Callaghan rumbled with a little bit of laughter at the response. Sure enough, at the sound and sound of Hiro, the white ball of fluff that was in Callaghan's grip instantly begin to bark and wriggle with happiness. She tried to move and jump down to the ground herself, out of sheer impatience, but Callaghan didn't want to risk her hurting Hiro even more. He kept a firm grip on her, and once he got close enough, he knelt down beside Hiro, leaning to the side so that the dog could reach him just enough.

Instantly, she began to cover Hiro's face in rapid licks, shaking head to toe with happiness and relief, as if to say: 'There you are, _there_ you are!' Hiro closed both eyes, still smiling wide as he let out a small giggle. She had gotten so _big_ since he had seen her last, hadn't she? Or was that just his eyesight being bad? With the way he was laying on the ground, his glasses _were_ slightly askew. But even if she had grown so much as a sign of their separation, she was still back _now_. She was _here_ , and he could have her again.

Callaghan waited for Nozomi to settle down just a little bit before he let go of her completely. Then she did rush forward, but she settled down to lay in front of Hiro, rather than bounce all over him, which was what he had been fearing. No— the dog sprawled out in front of Hiro, letting out gleeful yips in between her feverish licks. Sidetracked from his pain, Hiro was able to drag his good arm forward and lay it out over her, his fingers moving in and out to pet through her fur.

Hiro didn't realize that he was crying until he sniffed and buried his head down into her stomach, feeling the water burn back into his cheeks from the pressure. Once he became aware of it, it was nearly impossible to stop— his felt his shoulders start to jerk up and down, and he felt that his breath was much harder to gasp in without it sounding like a sob. He sniffed and tried his best to manage it, though he knew the effort would be fruitless.

Nozomi curled up closer to him now, fully calmed down and content to know that she was by his side again. Hiro turned, and his heart split it two as he saw the familiar wag of her tail, which was currently thumping against the ground. He pulled her as close as he could let her get without touching his arm, feeling that strange mixture of happiness and sorrow at the fact that he could hold her again. It felt like years since he had gotten to be with her like this, when, before, she was usually the only thing that helped him calm down.

It was like, after being shut out in the snow for hours on end, he was finally wrapped up in a warm blanket.

He did the only thing he knew he had to do. Because who knew what would happen if he failed to do this one thing? Who knew whether or not she would be taken away a second time, and who knew whether or not Hiro would ever get to see her again? After all, Hiro had almost started to think that he was never going to see her again _before_ this, as punishment for what he'd done. So he picked his head up and looked up at Callaghan, who was staring right back at him. He looked as though he was waiting for this one thing. The thing that, when he first got here, Hiro would have laughed at. But now, he was able to realize completely on his own, that it was expected— that it was _needed_.

He smiled— a watery smile that was barely able to stay upturned. And quietly, he murmured: "Thank you."

Callaghan's face broke out into a smile at the gratitude.

He almost looked as happy as Hiro had when he had first seen Nozomi.

All this time had passed, and somehow, Hiro wasn't able to get that expression out of his mind.

He sighed, his shoulders sagging down a little lower than normal. He was sitting alone at the kitchen table, propping his head up with one hand, and using the other to pet Mochi. The fat cat had jumped up on the tabletop when Hiro had sat down, and decided to settle there for good once it was established that he would be paid attention to here. That was typically how it worked for him, and out of everything, it was one of the things that stayed constant. So Hiro should feel grateful that at least the cat was staying normal for him.

And maybe he would have felt grateful, had it not been for the fact that Hiro's chest felt so empty watching his hand run down the cat's back, smoothing the fur down in its wake. His eyes flickered back and forth, trained intently on his hand and the motions that seemed familiar and yet not at the same time. Mochi was purring loudly— his entire body was rumbling like a motorboat. It filled the relative silence of the house, since Aunt Cass was downstairs working in the café. Hiro had slightly hope in the back of his mind that with this company, he would be too sidetracked, too focused, to think of much else. However, he had apparently been sorely mistaken.

He sighed again, noticing how loud the exhale seemed. He hesitated and tried it again, but sure enough, it was the same. It felt like the simple huff expanded into much more, so that it could fill up the entire space around him. Glumly, he shook his head to try and dismiss the thoughts. He needed to do something— he knew that. Just sitting around here wouldn't do him any good; that was one of the things he had learned. He tried to recall the 'Important W's that he had been taught back at the hospital he had stayed in, that were supposed to serve as what they called 'healthy distractors.'

Water— he could eat or drink something, but he wasn't all that hungry.

Walk – he could do some sort of physical activity, but he was too tired at the moment.

Watch – he could watch TV or put in a movie, but he wasn't really inclined to walk all the way to the living room.

Write – he could find a journal or something and write down whatever was tripping him up, but he wouldn't know where to begin.

He sighed again, pressing his lips together tightly. Nothing seemed good enough.

Hiro looked down at Mochi, who he realized with a jump was staring intently at him. It was clear that the cat was more than frustrated by the sudden cease in affection. So, meeting his stare, Hiro raised his eyebrows. "Well?" he asked, trying to ignore how even his voice seemed to echo in the emptiness. "What do you think we should do?"

Mochi blinked once, slowly. His tail lashed from side to side. Hiro was pretty sure that when cats wagged their tails, it meant they were not pleased in the slightest.

"You can't think of anything?" Hiro demanded in a monotone voice.

Again, Mochi's tail swung from left to right.

' _Do you think there's anything that could happen to maybe help you feel a little bit of that pride?'_

Hiro groaned and leaned over, pressing the heels of his hands into his forehead. "Maybe it's just that there's _too_ much to do," he grumbled underneath his breath.

If Mochi was going to take this time to actually contribute to this already-stirring conversation, he did not get the chance to. All of a sudden, there was a loud clanking noise coming up the steps, which sliced through the silence that had swallowed up the place. Hiro immediately whipped around, habitually tensing at the suddenness of the clamor. But he soon relaxed, however reluctantly, as he could make out the shape of his brother backing up over the landing of the stairs. He was puffing loudly for air, and Hiro tilted his head to the side as he saw that the elder was dragging along what looked to be a huge box.

He made the small leap and guessed that was the source of his exertion.

Once he got the thing over the last step, Tadashi righted himself and put his hands on his hips, giving out what sounded like a cross between an irritated huff and a pleased chirp. Hiro watched him skeptically, and once Tadashi caught sight of his brother he jumped almost guiltily. "Hiro! I didn't realize you were right there!" Hiro didn't reply at once, and his brother offered him a broad grin. "How was your day? What all did you do?" He was probably just asking to make sure that Hiro didn't just lay around again for hours on end, but considering that was _exactly_ what he did, Hiro found that he probably didn't need to reply to the question.

"What's that thing?" he asked instead.

Tadashi perked. "What— _this_?" It was a pretty stupid question, since that was the only thing beside him save for his satchel he always wore to and from classes. Hiro nodded, and Tadashi nodded. "Well, this is—" He stopped for heartbeat, second-guessing himself. He backtracked and fixed whatever he decided was unfit. "This was my robotics project."

Hiro sat a little bit straighter at this. "'Was?'" he echoed. "What, is something wrong with it?"

"Wrong with it? No, no, I just didn't…I just decided to bring it home," Tadashi said, offering him what was probably supposed to be an easygoing grin. Hiro seemed less sure and started to open his mouth to say something. Briskly, before his little brother could do anything of the sort, Tadashi swung down and started to drag the thing over to the kitchen. "Wanna see what it is?" he asked.

Hiro's forehead creased just a little bit more at the invitation. Underneath the table, his hands clasped together a tad bit tighter. Once Tadashi hopped back up to stand, having drawn the box as close as he wanted it, the sneaking feeling in the younger's stomach only grew. It wasn't hard to see that at the notion of showing off whatever his project was, obviously made Tadashi happy. Happi _er_ , that is to say. Usually, when Tadashi came home from school, he was frustrated and irritable— he only brightened up once he realized that Hiro was looking over in his direction.

But now, he seemed excited. Over the moon, really.

"You ready?" Tadashi asked, grinning from ear-to-ear.

Hiro doled out his own smile. Though he looked at the box with a little skepticism. "Yeah, sure."

Tadashi shifted to clasp his hands behind his back, and he turned to look down at the box. Clearly, he spoke up a single word that caused, for Hiro, more confusion than anything else. "Ow."

Hiro tilted his head to the side. Immediately, he asked: "What's wrong?"

But before Tadashi could do anything more than turn and smile in his direction, the answer was shown to be unnecessary. The box opened itself automatically, and Hiro immediately stiffened as he realized that whatever was inside was coming out rapidly. Well…not coming out, so much as it was… _inflating_. Acting and resembling a balloon, this white figure came into form until it was filled to the brim with air. It had a face that, Hiro thought, was a little bit vacant, or blank. And it looked a little… _too_ full. It looked like a marshmallow that was twice as big as it should have been.

Hiro was silent, just watching. The robot blinked once, a very rigid sort of motion, and then turned to look over at Tadashi. While it did, its legs, which were pretty much smaller stubs, moved just as routinely to step over the edge of the box and onto the floor. "Hello." Its voice was blank and monotone. Or maybe it was meant to be calming— in a way, it could be, he figured. "I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion. I was alerted to the need of medical attention, when you said: 'Ow.'" There was a brief pause before the robot continued, Hiro noticing that his voice seemed to brighten up somewhat in comparison. "Hello, Tadashi," he greeted instead.

"Hello, Baymax," Tadashi replied. He flashed Hiro yet another approving look. "Baymax, meet Hiro. He's my little brother."

Baymax turned so that he could survey the younger of the two. He blinked once again, the motion still coming across as routine. He tilted his head to the left, and there was a buffering pause before: "Hello, Hiro." His voice sounded just as approving as it had when he had greeted Tadashi. If Hiro didn't know any better, he would have thought that it was warmth that was in the words. "It is nice to meet you." Hiro offered him a sheepish grin, but the robot hardly got to notice before he looked to Tadashi again. "You do not appear to be in any physical distress."

"No, I'm not," Tadashi said. "I just wanted you show you off to Hiro." The older brother skirted to the side so that he could go and stand beside him. Reaching out, he clapped a hand down affectionately on Hiro's shoulder. "He's interested in robotics— he's super great at it, too." Hiro's smile turned a little awkward at this. Baymax looked at the change in facial expression, but just blinked again. "He was always better at it than me, so I thought he'd like to see what I made." He flashed his little brother a sly grin. "You'll probably have _tons_ of corrections on him, right, Hiro?"

Hiro's hands were still tightly clamped. He looked from his brother, to Baymax, looking a little apprehensive now. Eventually, he just shook his head, giving out an embarrassed-looking smile. "No, he's— it's a robotic nurse?" he asked. When Tadashi nodded, Hiro mimicked the movement. "No, it's— it looks fine." Hastily, he backtracked. "I mean, it looks great. It's fantastic."

Tadashi moved to reply, but Baymax spoke before he had the chance to. "You seem to be very anxious; your body posture is noticeably rigid and stiff," the robot pointed out, Tadashi instantly stiffening. "And according to my scanners, your serotonin levels are far below the levels of a typically healthy individual. This could serve as a sign of—"

"Baymax, that's enough," Tadashi broke in, his voice panicked. "You don't need to scan him. Stop it."

Hiro was silent, and his lips were pressed down into a thin line.

Baymax seemed confused for a heartbeat as he looked in between the two of them. However, he recovered soon enough. "I see." He dipped his head down to Hiro slowly. "I apologize."

There an awkward pause. Then: "It's fine. Don't worry."

Another awkward pause. Tadashi attempted to do away with it. "He's programmed with over ten thousand medical procedures," he reported. "It took me ages to get him into working order. You wouldn't believe how long I spent working at the school's lab. For an entire week almost, Aunt Cass didn't see me at all." He laughed, obviously trying as hard as he could to break the tension that was now in the air.

Hiro rose his eyebrows. It certainly looked like there was a lot of work put into Baymax. "Really?" he asked. "Well then…why is he here? Don't you have to turn him in or something? For a grade?" Glancing down at Mochi, who was eyeing Baymax suspiciously, Hiro pushed himself up from the dining room table. He winced a little bit at the stiffness that was deep-seated in his bones, but nevertheless, he managed it. Turning, he started over to Baymax to look at the robot closer. He had a severe limp in doing so, but at the same time, he was able to walk without the aid of his crutches.

It wasn't something he had done a lot. But he was trying to get better at it.

Baymax noticed his limp in a millisecond. "You are recovering from injuries," he remarked.

Tadashi growled. "Baymax!" he snapped, the robot instantly stiffening to alertness. The elder sighed, shaking his head aimlessly. "Look, you know what, this was probably a stupid idea. Baymax, I am sat—"

"No, it's…" Hiro blanched for a second, exchanging his attention as he looked from one to the other. "It's fine." It was interesting. Weird…but interesting. It was strange to come into contact with something like this. Something that he used to hold in such high regards, but now, hardly looked at. He hardly _could_ look at it anymore. Even glancing at his computer upstairs and remembering how he used to sign up for Bot Fights with such fervor was enough to make him sick. He couldn't know where Megabot was— the last time he remembered having it was right before he got hit by the car. He assumed it was gone forever. He hadn't gone to visit the garage, where he worked.

In fact, he'd had absolutely no contact with robots or robotics to begin with, since he had gotten back.

It was like looking into the past, standing in front of this one.

"That's so weird. That you can tell all of that, I mean," Hiro said. He flashed a glance back at Tadashi, who seemed on-edge. "It's cool. What else can you do?"

Baymax replied readily, as if he had been expecting such a question. "I can provide a wide array of medical services, instructions, or advice. My primary purpose is to heal the sick and injured." He tilted his head to the side, and his head moved up and down as he surveyed the young boy in front of him. "I have also been created with a soft, huggable design, to offer support to patients who have found themselves in distress and in need of comfort. Judging by your neurotransmitter levels, you seem to be in need of a hug." He blinked once. "Would you like one?"

Hiro's smile turned a little awkward. He shook his head. "No, no I'm— I don't need a hug. Thanks, though." He turned and looked back over his shoulder, realizing that Tadashi was still watching him with a great amount of intensity. The way he was looking at him made it clear that he was waiting for some sort of reaction— a different reaction. Some feedback more than just a simple 'cool.' Hiro offered him a smile, and even though he knew it still probably wasn't what his brother was looking for, he said: "That's really impressive. How long did it take you to build him?"

If Tadashi was disappointed, he didn't show it. He just smiled, sticking his hands down into his pockets. "Well…you know— about a year, I guess." Hiro's expression flickered over a little bit, and he turned back to Baymax so that Tadashi might not see. "It took quite a while to get everything figured out. Sometimes I would pull all-nighters at school, just trying to get him to work a little bit more. But…yup, he's finally done. He's _been_ done, I guess you could say. He's just been collecting dust in my station, so I figured I'd better bring him home."

"You don't need him for class?" Hiro asked.

"Uh, well, you know, he doesn't really need to sit around just waiting. And, if there's ever a— he doesn't need to just sit around. But!" Hiro wilted as Tadashi strode forward to stand at Baymax's side in front of him. Tadashi might have noticed his disappointment, or he might not have. There was no telling as he went on. "He's got a bunch of features! He can give immunizations, he can take your blood pressure, he can diagnose illnesses from symptoms, and everything he sees, he takes record of. He scans whoever's around him to assess their health. So he's the whole package."

Hiro's eyebrows rose. "That's amazing." There was a genuine spark of interest and wonder in his voice— Tadashi picked up on it immediately, and it was hard to ignore how he lit up. "He could do a lot for people, then. Like…if you made a bunch of them…that'd be great."

Tadashi nodded. "Yeah. Probably would've." He took in a sharp breath then, and clapped his hands together. "Alright, Baymax. I think that's all for now— maybe later I can show you to Aunt Cass, but…for now, I am satisfied with my care."

Baymax perked at the words, and Hiro watched as the robot obediently turned and shuffled back to the crate he had come out of. Stuffing his hands down into the front pocket of his hoodie, he bit down a little bit on his lower lip as Baymax deflated and packed himself away. "Is that like a shutting down code?" Hiro asked. "'I am satisfied with my care?'"

"Yeah, I needed something," Tadashi sighed, watching Baymax leave just as intently. "If he stays on longer than he needs to be, he runs out of batteries. And I haven't figured out a low power mode for him yet. He's kind of really useless if he runs out of power, and then it's hard to get him to charge." He shook his head, already starting forward so he could pick up the crate and take it away. "I figured that out one Friday night— completely wrecked my entire plan to go out with friends. It was awful. It was a whole mess, and by the end of the night, the entire campus knew my name. And Baymax's."

Hiro was quiet for a few moments, his expression sullen. His eyes flickered down to the ground, and, studying the floor between his feet he mumbled out a soft: "How come you're changing majors?"

Tadashi stopped. There was a period of silence in which Hiro knew for a fact that his brother was trying to collect himself. When he finally did, stooping down and trying to make it seem like he was doing something with the crate, he offered a lame shrug of the shoulders. "People change their majors all the time," he replied. "Wasabi started out college thinking he was going to be a doctor. It's rare to find someone that starts out with what they end up doing."

Hiro wasn't fazed. "You _love_ robotics, though," he pushed. It wasn't hard to notice that Tadashi seemed stiffer. "And you're _really_ good at it— look at what you did with Baymax. You never disliked robotics before…"

He didn't finish the sentence, but he might as well have, for all it hung in between them.

Tadashi didn't look back at him. Something in the back of Hiro's mind wondered whether it was just because he couldn't bring himself to. Tadashi's next words were clipped and a little shorter than they usually were. They were hard, and they put up a front of finality that was too prominent to ignore. "I'll be better at chemistry. I'll like it more."

He picked up Baymax's crate, and, with heavy footsteps, he started for the stairs.

Hiro ducked back down to focus on the floor. His expression was heavy as he listened to his brother's footsteps fade up the stairs. "Yeah," he whispered underneath his breath, not at all sure if Tadashi could hear him. He glanced down at his arm— the one with the warped scar he currently kept covered with his long sleeves. Mochi was still on the kitchen table, having witnessed the entire scene with a rather disinterested expression. Hiro turned back for him, knowing that there wasn't anything else he could do.

He sat down heavily in the chair, one hand automatically going back into the soft touch of the cat's fur. "Maybe you will," he sighed, as if his brother was still here, and had not ducked away like he had.

But somehow, even without the audience, the lie was still hard to tell.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro was perched on the couch, his legs drawn up to his chest, and a blanket draped over his shoulders. His head was resting down on his knees, his eyes flickering over the screen that was in front of him. The young boy was gnawing on the inside of his cheek, his eyebrows knitted close together as he hesitated and agonized over what to do. In front of him was Aunt Cass' laptop— he'd stolen it from her room, since she was busy down at the café. He was sure that she wouldn't miss it regardless, but at the same time, he wanted to avoid many questions.

 _Go on. Just type it all out. You're wasting time just sitting here._

 _But what'll happen if nothing shows up?_

 _You'll never know, if you just sit here like an idiot._

Hiro sighed wearily, closing his eyes for a moment and allowing himself just five more seconds. He couldn't just sit here for ages and worry about what might be there should he do it. Just five more seconds, and then he would not allow himself to hesitate any longer. So, wringing his hands together, he took his time in counting through the scale.

1…2…3…4…5.

He released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, snapping open his eyes and forcing himself to reach over and drag the computer closer to him. He took hold of the touchpad and shifted the mouse over to open the web browser. He locked his jaw backwards, trying not to pay attention to too much as he turned to the search bar. He wasn't too keen on accidentally catching glimpse of any trial news that could pop up, or be lingering on something like around Cass' email. He hardly even had the courage to do this alone— he wasn't about to try his luck at anything else.

Clicking on the search bar, Hiro's eyes narrowed a little bit as he started to type. There were probably a million animal shelters in the city of San Fransokyo. It was just too big a city to have only three or four, right? He wasn't even sure what any of them could be called. So, blindly, he typed in 'San Fransokyo Animal Shelters' and hoped for the best.

Sure enough, results snapped into being on the screen in front of him, and he sat back just a little bit at the daunting number. A sense of nervousness settled over his features, and he bit down on his lower lip as he tried the first result. It was some cheesy-named shelter with brightly-colored graphics, and cute pictures of animals. Hiro turned to select a link entitled: 'Look At All Our Wonderful Dogs!'

Sure enough, the page that sprung up in front of him was comprised of pictures of cute dogs in poses that supposedly helped their chances at being adopted. Immediately, wasting no time at all, Hiro started to scroll down and through the results. There was a Golden Retriever named Ben that was wearing a party hat. There was a Pit Bull named Carla that had a tennis ball in her mouth. There was a Yorkie named Tinkerbell that was wearing a tutu that looked five times too big for her.

But there was no Shiba Inu. No white ball of fluff that Hiro instantly recognized.

His hope fell like a weight, and he felt as though something had punched him directly in the gut. He scrolled through the page two more times, just to make sure that he didn't miss her. But, no. She wasn't there— she wasn't anywhere on the page. Disappointment swelled up from the pit of his stomach, and Hiro ducked his head just a little bit so that he could run his hands through his hair.

What if she wasn't anywhere? What if she wasn't on any of these pages, or what if she wasn't in any of these shelters? What if nobody found her and kept her safe, because there was nothing of her _to_ find? What if, when Callaghan took her away from him that night when she was just blindly trying to help, he didn't just shut her up somewhere? Staring blankly at the computer screen, Hiro felt the familiar burn of tears spring up in his eyes, and he watched the site blur and warp in front of him.

What if Callaghan hadn't just sent her away so that she could be out of his hair, or out of this situation? He had been planning to move away with him, that final night that Hiro had been there— he had told him to get in the car; that was one of the last things he remembered, being there. If he had packed up everything to move, and Nozomi hadn't been there. Tadashi hadn't seen her at least; he didn't know about any dog until Hiro mentioned it to him.

So where was Nozomi, if she wasn't on here?

By this point, his breathing had picked up and escalated. Panic, which was so easily succumbed to nowadays, was quickly taking over.

Callaghan always had a bad temper. If Hiro did the smallest thing wrong, he would immediately strike him, or punch him, without wasting a second and without sparing the smallest bit of force. What if his temper had just flared too much with Nozomi? What if he went just a little bit too far, and that was that? What if he ended up—?

He sucked in a harsh breath, shaking his head as if to physically clear his head of the intrusive thoughts. Calm. He needed to stay calm. He needed to stay calm and just think for a minute, and just breathe. Looking one last time at the dogs that looked like they were smiling, they were so happy, Hiro turned and glumly pressed the back arrow button that took him back to the search browser.

He tried to calm his breathing down, and he used his free arm to reach up and rub at his eyes, trying to stop himself before he could get even more worked up. Calm. He needed to stay calm. That was all he needed to do. So he took in a big breath and scrolled down to the next available animal shelter website. It had a just-as-cheesy name, and a just-as-cheesy website layout. He tried to ignore it, and instead click quickly over to the same type of link, that would lead him to the selection of dogs that were currently available there.

A similar page popped up for him, and Hiro leaned forward just a little bit as he started to comb through the selection that was there. His eyes picked through each picture, straining for the familiar fuzz of Nozomi, while his chest slowly began to ache and twinge in pain. The pain only increased as he went along, scrolling further and further down the page, without any kind of result.

Eventually, he hit the bottom of the page, with nothing at all to show for his searching.

He closed his eyes tightly, resigning to sit in complete silence for a moment, as he digested this second failure. Again, he tried not to allow himself to spike with tension.

Hiro just took in another slow breath, forcing his eyes to open again. He shook his head, trying to ignore the fact that his nerves were gradually rising. He just scrolled up to the top of the page all over again, pressing the back arrow twice so that he could get back to the standard search page. He bit down on his lower lip, and resorted down to the third result.

And he started all over again.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"You sure you don't want to come?" Tadashi asked, uncertain as he looked back at Hiro.

Laying on his side, Hiro jerked a little bit, looking as though he was just roused from a dream. He lifted his head off of his pillow, recollecting his thoughts a little bit before he realized what the other was meaning. "Oh…yeah, yeah," he said quickly, having to scramble a bit to shake off the thoughts that were still clinging to his mind. "Yeah, I don't have to come." He laid back down, melting into the softness of the mattress. "They're your friends."

"You know they would love for you to come, Hiro," Tadashi objected. "They're not just my friends, they can be yours too." He paused for a second, and then hedged: "You know I don't have to go. They're just seeing a movie; it's not all that much. I can stay here with you if you want company. We could break out some of our favorite board games!"

The offer was well-intended, but Hiro's rejection came quick. "No." Realizing that it was probably too harsh, he winced and backtracked, offering a nervous grin as a cover-up. "No, it's not just that. I'm just…I'm tired, too. I think I'm just going to go to bed. And…you know, you haven't been out to do something you want to do in a while. You should go. Really." He gave a small nod. "Go on ahead. I don't mind. I'm probably gonna go to bed here soon."

"Alright." Tadashi finally gave in, however reluctantly. "Well, I'm only going to be gone for a few hours, and I'll come back. I'll have my phone on me, too, in case you need me." Hiro simply nodded. But still, Tadashi seemed unsure. "And Aunt Cass is just downstairs in the café. She said she might take off early, too, to be with you. So…there's that. Just in case."

"I got it," Hiro said. "Have fun."

There was one more hesitation from Tadashi. This one was silent, the older brother simply taking one last look at the younger. But eventually, there couldn't be any more pause, and there was nothing left to do but give in. "Alright," he repeated. "I'll see you later, then. And if you're asleep by the time I get back, then goodnight."

"Night," Hiro called back.

Tadashi turned and headed downstairs. Staying in the same position on the bed, Hiro waited, listening to the thuds as they got quieter and quieter. After some time, he could hear the door open and close down somewhere downstairs. Even so, he waited a little bit longer, just to make sure. But it was quiet. There was the muffled sounds of the café downstairs— people talking and laughing and music. In the past, he had been so used to the noise that he had managed to tune it out entirely. Now, he was always well aware of the noise. He couldn't ignore it if he tried.

Five minutes must have passed, with him just lying there in the quiet, alone. But then he pushed into motion, pulling himself up into a sitting position and grimacing a little bit at the stiffness in his sides and in his back. He sat up despite this, staring ahead to the wall that was opposite him. There was a weight pressing down on his chest, yet he managed to feel hollow and empty at the same time. The look on his face was unsure and apprehensive. He could hardly get the word out, he was so afraid of what it would mean. But somehow, he did.

"Ow."

Sure enough, almost as soon as the syllable escaped his mouth, there was the sound of inflation. Hiro bit down on his lower lip and turned to look over towards the corner, where Tadashi had stowed the crate away. And now, Baymax was standing upright, and staring expectantly over at Hiro. The robot looked down at the ground, taking his time and very specific care in stepping over the edge of his box and down to the floor. From there, he took just as much care in waddling over towards where the boy was still perched.

It took maybe about a minute. If Hiro wasn't so preoccupied, he would have wondered why a robot designed to help in medical emergencies couldn't move with haste. Eventually, though, Baymax did come to a stop. Once he did, he lifted up one arm and offered a small wave. "Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion." There was another pause before he greeted: "Hello, Hiro. What seems to be the trouble?"

Hiro hesitated for a moment more, just staring at him. The words were stuck in his throat, but they refused to budge out through his mouth. In his lap, his hands were fisting into a tight ball. Not yet met with feedback, Baymax took it upon himself to continue. "You do not seem to be in any physical distress. Is there something else I could help you with?"

"Uh, n-no, not…not really, I…" Hiro trailed off for a moment, trying to find the right words. He couldn't even bring himself to look directly at the robot; instead, he looked off to the side, towards the corner of the room where there wasn't really much to see. His forehead creased over a little bit as the pit in his stomach grew a little bit more. "I was just…I was wondering…about you." He grimaced, well aware that this wasn't all that great a start.

Baymax seemed to misunderstand. "I am a robot. I cannot experience physical harm or danger. Wondering about my wellbeing serves no purpose."

"I'm not wondering about that," Hiro rejected. "I was…" He took in a sharp breath, exhaling just as quickly. "Tadashi said you can…scan people…right? How does…how does that work?"

Baymax straightened up quickly, like he was student who knew the correct answer and could hardly wait to share it. "I contain scanners that are equipped to judge people from short or long distances. I am able to take down details such as weight, blood type, or other important medical facts, from a distance up to a thousand feet. This can be useful in taking notice of a personal's physical state in a moment's notice, or it may be used for person-specific identification as well."

"Up to a thousand feet?" Hiro asked. When Baymax nodded, he mumbled just as softly: "And…can you scan more than just a person?"

"I can scan a large body of people at once, if that is what you are referring to," he replied.

"It's not," he huffed. He paused, groping for the right words. "I meant…could you scan animals? Like…if I asked you if there was an animal nearby, could you pick it up? On your scanners?"

The creation contemplated this. "I have not been given the knowledge of medical treatment when it comes to animals. And I have not yet been tested in the accuracy of scanning animals," he pointed out. "My expertise is based only in human care." He picked up on the disappointment that was quick to come over Hiro's face, because he added: "But if there was an animal within one thousand feet, I would be able to discern its presence, if you are only concerned about that aspect."

Hiro swallowed this gradually, his face blank and unresponsive. Silence made a bridge in between the two of them. It was stifling and choking.

Baymax seemed unnerved at the silence. "Are you in need of help, Hiro?" he asked. Before Hiro could reply, he added: "I have been told of your specific situation, and if you would like to have someone to talk to, I could—"

"I am satisfied with my care," Hiro cut him off.

Baymax immediately let the topic drop. He turned without another word and set back for his crate. Hiro winced, watching him go with a heavy expression. Some half of him wished that he would call the robot back. He knew that it just wanted to help— it was in its programming. He would have someone to talk to, then, and he might be able to get his mind off of some things.

But that was only half of him.

The other half, the much stronger side of him, was the one that motivated him to turn and lay back down on the bed, curling back up into himself in a position that was created out of sheer muscle memory.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"How was school, honey?" Aunt Cass asked, sliding Tadashi's dinner plate in front of him. Quickly, she did the same with Hiro, leaning down at the same time so that she could plant a small kiss on his cheek. It was a new routine; every night since he'd come home, she would always pause to give him kisses at random intervals of the day. Though every night, it was always a fact that she had to give him one with his food. And though some part of him wished he could sigh in exasperation like he probably would have before, now he simply grinned.

Tadashi tried to mimic the same type of expression that was on his brother's face. But it was noticeably lacking. "It was fine," he offered. "Same old, same old, I guess. Nothing really new." He picked up his fork and started to dig around the food. Hiro's eyes flickered down to his plate, and they stayed trained there fixedly.

Aunt Cass took her seat, starting to delve into her own meal. "Well, that's better than nothing, I guess!" she chirped, obviously trying very hard to keep the mood light. Hiro didn't even reach for his silverware. "Did you…you didn't happen to visit the Financial Aid Office at any point…did you?" Aunt Cass asked, noticeably more hesitant with this question. When Tadashi didn't reply, she mistakenly took it as confusion. "So that you could get more details on that offer? For your tuition?"

"No." The reply was blunt. "No, I didn't get around to it."

Hiro glanced up at his brother, sullen.

Cass nodded. "Oh," she murmured. "…Alright."

Silence.

Uncomfortable, Cass turned to Hiro, struggling to weave some sort of conversation into being. "How was your day, honey?" she asked, her voice turning as soft as honey. "I really do hate leaving you alone so much…I was thinking I would close the café tomorrow, and we could do something together. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Hiro didn't look up from the plate. His fingers clinched down a little bit over his knees. "Yeah. Sounds great."

His voice was stiff, and, predictably, nobody in the room was left unwise. Tadashi immediately turned to look at him, his eyes filling up with worry and concern. Aunt Cass sparked to attention where she was sitting as well. Displaying her usual nervous tic, she reached up quickly to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. "Are you alright, honey?" she asked, looking him over fretfully, as if she would be able to discern the issue just by looking at him. "What's the matter?"

Listlessly, Hiro ducked his head down and rubbed a hand over his forehead. He was more than well aware of the fact that both of them were staring at him— he was being burned through. His voice came out quiet and rigid. "I just…I think…" Aunt Cass and Tadashi glanced at one another, both of their expressions mirrored looks of anxiety. But Hiro kept his eyes specifically downward. Again, he rubbed at his face, trying to keep his voice from sharpening with too much apprehension. But the idea of getting out what he wanted was causing his heart to race and ram against his chest. "I think I want to do something," he squeezed out.

The tone of his voice immediately threw Cass into paranoia, though she tried to keep a lid on it. "Of course, of course!" she blustered. Tadashi was looking from one person to another, seeming lost but on-edge at the same time. "Whatever you want to do, we can do it! Of course! Don't feel like you can't say anything, honey, we'll understand. What do you want to do?"

He paused for a long second, simply staring down at his plate. His next words were nothing more than a small rasp that barely escaped his throat. "You two aren't going to like it," he whispered. His fingers still clenched down tightly into his knees. He paused for a while, however it felt more like a year, or maybe even three. He closed his eyes and finally managed to get it out, though his voice was soft, and it showed plainly the amount of reluctance and hesitation he had been bottling up inside of himself. "I think I _should_ do something," he amended.

He struggled on, though he still refused to meet either of their gazes. "I think I should go back to the house," he confessed.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: I apologize that I cut this short. Like I said, the chapter was going on 25 pages long, and that was just too much. But most of the next chapter is done already, so it should not be too long before I am able to release that one as well. I think you'll really like what I have for that; I certainly like the second half better than this first part. So that'll come soon! Don't worry!

But since I did chop this chapter in two, that means there'll be two more regular chapters after this, not just the one! And then I have planned one last chapter that I have been thinking of, and looking forward to write, ever since about chapter ten of this story. So I'm very excited to do that, and I hope you're excited to read it! We're getting down to the wire, certainly! And getting closer to the answer of Nozomi! (Which everyone has been asking me about since like chapter 15 so yay lol)

Again, thank you for your patience, and for the well wishes, for those of you who gave them to me!

Expect the next chapter sometime soon!

Please excuse any typos or mistakes! If you could point any glaring ones out, I would love to fix them when I have the time!


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: This is the other half of the last chapter! Splitting them up was my best option! I am sorry it took some time; holidays creeped up on me, and finals actually start this next week. So once winter break rolls around, I will be sure to finish this story. My goal is to finish it before school picks up again in January, and it won't be hard to hold myself to that standard, considering there are about two more chapters after this one! I hope you guys are excited for the ending! And I hope I get to hear from a little more of you for this chapter! I miss hearing from you guys!

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"It is currently thirty degrees Fahrenheit. The forecast this morning called for a chance of snow, and by judging the shift in atmospheric pressure, it cannot be too far off." Baymax turned to look over in Hiro's direction; the boy noticed it, but he certainly did not react to it, just like he didn't react to the robot's words when he continued. "You should not be outside in such cold weather, Hiro. Though your bones have healed significantly, the frigid air will not help them. Rather, your gait has already become stiffer in the short walk from the car, to here."

Hiro didn't reply. He just set his jaw backwards a little bit and tried to ignore how right the robot was. Tadashi seemed a little nervous, as if he would have liked to respond himself; at the same time, though, the tension between everyone together was too thick to speak around. For himself, at least. But Aunt Cass seemed much more capable. "Maybe he's right," she said nervously. "Maybe we should go back. We can wait to do this— when you're feeling better, honey."

"No," Hiro mumbled. At his sides, his fingers curled up tightly into fists. "I don't want to stop."

Cass wilted, her eyes flashing over in pain. "Sweetie, I know what you're trying to do, but I really don't think that…"

She trailed off, unable to finish. It wasn't really all that surprising that she gave up, though; she had been trying to talk Hiro out of doing this ever since he had brought it up at the dinner table last night. Everything she said fell on deaf ears. Hiro was, for once, entirely unfazed and unchanging. He had said that he wanted to come here— no, he had claimed that he _needed_ to do so. Though he had been silent the whole way here, and the nervousness on his face was very horribly hidden, he had refused to speak up and decide that they should double back. Rather, he was leading the group of four up the street.

He'd been the one to ask if they could park a few houses down. It was the only thing he had said, on the way here. Aunt Cass had been more than happy to oblige; if it was up to her, they would park miles away— they wouldn't even begin walking. She walked only a few steps behind Hiro; her gaze was nervous and fretful as she monitored him closely. Tadashi was walking at Hiro's side, Baymax flanking his other one. He hadn't made a habit out of having Baymax walk around anywhere outside, really. Mostly he stayed in his lab. If Tadashi had been in charge, he would have wanted Baymax to stay back at the house.

But Hiro had asked if the robot could come, and Tadashi had been unable to turn down the plea.

That was the root of everything, he supposed. Though he wished that it was the opposite, Tadashi wasn't in charge of this situation at all. Aunt Cass wasn't either. Hiro was at the head of the four, and, however strange it was, he was the person who was pushing for…for _this_. For something that both Tadashi and Aunt Cass didn't think would happen for a year, at the _very_ least.

They finally reached where they were heading. They felt as though it had been miles since they had left the car, when had really only been about a minute, or two, tops. Tadashi and Aunt Cass were the first to stop, and, after realizing they had, Hiro followed suit. The two were sharing twin looks of discomfort and pain, inspired by memories of what had taken place here just a few months ago. They were instantly able to recognize what was in front of them. They saw the same brick home and the same driveway that curved around the house towards the back. Tadashi could remember what it had looked like when he'd come here on Halloween, and Aunt Cass could recall the stark, raving-type of screaming that had seemed to bounce off the walls of the home from the man that had stolen her nephew.

They could remember the flashing lights of the police cars, and the yelling and fighting that had broken out until Callaghan had been subdued and tackled to the pavement. Tadashi felt sick when he remembered pulling Hiro out the car, seeing his brother for the first time in a year, and seeing how beaten and broken he'd been. In a flash, all of these memories surged forward to crowd their expressions and their eyes; they weren't even able to hide it.

Hiro looked back at them blankly for only a few moments, before he turned back to survey the point of their focus. A dull sense of recognition flashed in the back of his eyes, but it was a little bit vacant as well. "This is…" He blinked a few times, and his forehead creased over in puzzlement. "Is this his house?" he asked, his voice rather small. When he looked back over his shoulder, he realized that Tadashi and Aunt Cass were both looking at him with faint disbelief. In a sense of his own discomfort, he shoved his hands down into his hoodie pocket. "I've never actually seen it. The outside," he admitted. "Maybe…a glimpse of it…on videos. But…never like this."

Silence followed the confession. Aunt Cass slouched just a little, underneath the weight of what Hiro's words implied, and Tadashi felt yet another strong tug at his stomach. Baymax watched the exchange in silence, apparently unable to decide what action he should take. Hiro looked back at the house; he was noticeably stiffer now, and his nerves were gradually beginning to spark with worry and apprehension. His hands clasped together tightly where they were hidden beneath his hoodie. He forced down an uncomfortable swallow, and in the back of his mind, he wondered whether the decision to come here was far too rash.

He forced his legs into motion. What was before such an automatic action, now took slow and careful thought. He dragged first his left foot forward, and then his right. Tadashi and Cass watched him begin towards the back of the home, still looking skeptical, and not at all sure that they were actually going through with this. But they were quick to follow once it was clear that there was nothing else they could do. They had tried to persuade him out of it. They had tried to offer alternatives. All that was left was to be right behind him.

They rounded the driveway until they emerged into the backyard. Tadashi and Aunt Cass quickened their pace just a little bit so that they could each be on Hiro's side, leaving Baymax to take up the back. Worried as they kept walking for the back door, Tadashi turned and glanced down at his little brother, trying to gauge his reaction. But the expression that was on his face was one of uncertainty and caution. He'd meant to look away before Hiro caught that he was staring, but apparently he failed.

The younger turned just a little bit, and his expression sharpened with his unsureness. "It's weird," he admitted, talking almost under his breath. "I feel like I should feel more. But…I don't think I will until I get inside. It doesn't…nothing is familiar yet."

A black steel fence bordered the yard, separating it from the driveway and whatever was beyond. Aunt Cass reached forward and opened it for the others; thankfully, it wasn't any sort of locking mechanism— it was just a simple pull to get it open. Hiro crossed the threshold and emerged into the yard. He paused for a moment to look around, and there was no mistaking the fact that his shoulders became heavy, and slouched.

It looked like any regular backyard. He could recognize just a few areas from hazy recollections from videos he'd seen. Like over in that corner, Abigail had passed through, rolling around the base of the snowman she'd been making. But there was a garden area in the center; it was dead and gone, now, but there was an arranged pathway of stones that marked the path it used to line. Nearer to the house was a table and a few chairs— a dining area where friends would gather to gossip and laugh over food. There was a gazebo too, and a fancy-looking grill.

It looked nice. It looked better than nice; it looked _wonderful_.

A frown was weighed over his face, and he took a few moments to collect himself. At the same time, he was very well aware of the fact that Cass and Tadashi were both staring at him intently; they weren't even glancing at the yard. Sullenly, Hiro drew into himself a little bit before he tried to pass off a smile. "I guess…I get it, now," he offered. Tadashi's eyebrows pulled together in concern as Hiro gave a small shrug. "It doesn't…really look like a place where…" He turned in a small circle, awkwardly, thanks to his lame leg. He was just beginning to wean off his crutches more. "I just get it, I mean," he settled for. "More than I did before."

Aunt Cass took a small step forward, looking strained. "It still doesn't make it any better that—"

"No," Hiro broke through. "It doesn't. But still." He turned, going for the door. "I get it."

Aunt Cass started after him quickly, but Tadashi reached over and grabbed her by the arm. He tugged her backwards and hissed low underneath his breath. "This isn't a good idea," he whispered. "We shouldn't be doing this. It's way too soon. What's he even thinking?" Cass grimaced, so Tadashi pushed more. "He's just going to get worse with this, we need to leave _now_. This isn't _right_."

"It's what he wants," Cass whispered, glancing over her shoulder to where Hiro was already pushing the door open. She looked back at Tadashi, and though she looked just as torn, her voice was steady. "I don't want him to do it either; I don't think he's thinking either." She hesitated for a moment more before she bit down on her lip and shook her head. "But we can't tell him no. Not with this." Tadashi seemed frustrated, but she wasn't budging. "We just need to be there for him. Until he decides it's enough."

Tadashi let go of her wrist, listless and defeated. She held his gaze for a heartbeat more before she turned to rush after Hiro. Baymax, who had waited through this whole thing, followed after. Tadashi was left to take up the rear. Aunt Cass had contacted the police beforehand, to make sure that they were not only allowed to visit the home, but that they would be able to in the first place. In a good way, and a bad way, they had been given clearance and assurance that they would get to do just that.

Tadashi got inside and closed the door once Baymax shuffled his way along. The college student turned, having to search for a moment to find where the others had gotten in his absence. Unsure, Tadashi walked away from the door, through what looked like a kitchen and out through a connected doorway. Relief swamped over him as he ended up walking right to where they were. He couldn't tell what this room was supposed to be; it just looked spacious and open. He looked around, discomfort crawling over his features. Already, he had found coming here creepy and out of place. But at the same time, now…

Hiro voiced the same exact thought that was running through his mind. "The furniture is gone."

Aunt Cass was hugging herself tightly, as if she was cold. Which, granted, the house was very cold with the fact that it had absolutely no heating. However, the cold wasn't what drove her to curl inward like a turtle. "The police probably took most of it," she murmured, looking around to eye the mostly-vacant home. "Or probably something like that. I'm not sure…"

Hiro didn't reply; there wasn't really one to give, in the first place, however it was mostly because his attention was drawn elsewhere. He had turned over to the side, his eyes becoming fixed on some point on the floor. Tadashi was nearing closer to him, but before he could come to a stop, Hiro moved first. He drifted over a few feet to the side, his expression changing drastically into a much more disturbed one. "What's wrong?" Tadashi asked immediately, following close. Aunt Cass winced before she ducked her head, reaching up to rub at her forehead.

Hiro stopped a ways away, staring down at the floor with a hollow expression. As if this was supposed to clear something up, he declared softly: "This was the dining room. I mean— where he ate. I ate here a few times, but…but not a lot, because…" He broke off abruptly. With every passing second, he seemed to get more and more upset. His jaw set backwards, and his eyebrows knitted, and slowly, very slowly, he started to lower himself down to the floor. He reached down to splay his palm over the wood, and, just as uselessly as before, he said: "This was where we ate."

"What do you mean? What's wrong?" Tadashi asked. He hopped over, disregarding his awkward gait out of the fear of what was happening, and what he didn't know. "What are you talking about? Is there something wrong?" Once he stopped, he bent over, his hands going down to his knees as he looked over Hiro's shoulder. Confusion more than anything else was what came over his features as he saw what, apparently, was causing all of this concern.

The area around where Hiro's hand was pressed seemed just the slightest shade different than the wood of the entire room. It was a difference that was barely able to be picked up, but Tadashi could tell that it was just a bit lighter. While the entire floor was dark brown, the same could not be said for this one specific spot. There was a small period of silence, the only sound being Cass' light footsteps as she drifted towards them. Tadashi tilted his head to the side. "I don't get it," he managed after a second. Anxious now, he looked down at Hiro in concern. "What's this about?"

 _You're going to put the knife down, Hiro._

Hiro draw back. With the same haunted look, he shrugged one shoulder lifelessly. He tried to offer another smile, tearing his gaze away from the patch so that he could look around the room instead. Baymax's full attention was on the smaller of the two brothers, and Tadashi didn't fail to notice either that Hiro's eyes were getting shinier and shinier with tears. Before his lower lip could tremble, he bit down hard on it. And, sitting through a few more beats of silence, he managed out: "My birthday."

Tadashi hesitated. "Your…your birthday?"

Hiro blew out a quick huff of air, ducking his head and shaking it quickly. "I-I mean _hers_. It was hers, not mine, but…but it _was_ mine. Because…because, you know, I was—" He shook his head again, quickly, and moved on before he could stumble over anything else. Through the fumbling, though, the others were completely silent, just looking at him emptily. He reached up to run his hands through his hair. "That was when— well, it was the first time I was given anything I could use. With the cake." His explanation was hectic and stressed. "There was a knife, I mean, when he got the cake out. And he sang to me, but there was a phone call, so he left."

Cass was crying now, however silently. Tadashi just looked as though he was about to throw up. "So I grabbed the knife and pointed it at him, and he pointed his gun at me, and told me to drop it." He was talking faster now, the whole story bursting forth, and him unable to apply any brakes. "And I just couldn't hurt him, so I hurt myself instead, and this— this is where I fell, I guess, I don't— I don't remember anything after that. I don't remember much for a while after that." He glanced sideways over at Tadashi as he said this, and something in his tearful gaze seemed to shift and change just a little bit. As if he was thinking about something different, that Tadashi didn't realize. He just met his little brother's stare with his own stricken one, unable to say much of anything. His mouth was near completely dry.

Hiro swallowed hard. He shrugged again, but this one was jerkier than the last. "This is where I got this," he said, moving his bad arm uselessly. Nobody spoke, because nobody knew what to say. Hiro stared off into the distance for a while, as if sidetracked. Baymax tilted his head to the side as he looked over the younger Hamada brother, though Tadashi wasn't paying mind at the moment. Hiro pushed himself up off the floor, causing his brother to sidestep out of the way. The younger stared down at the faded wood for one more moment or two. Hollowly, he stated: "It must have been hard to clean up."

Tadashi looked over at Aunt Cass. But her sole focus was just on her nephew— she didn't even register his glance.

Hiro turned, putting his back to the dining room and started away, his gait hindered and altered. He moved instead towards the left, to a door off to the side. Again, the three were right behind him, like lost ducklings. He stopped directly in front of it, and when he reached over to grasp the doorknob, his hand was shaking like a leaf. He grabbed it nonetheless, and when he pulled down on the knob and opened the door, his entire posture stiffened up rigid. Tadashi saw that there were stairs, and made the not-too-hard-leap that this led to the basement.

Already, it was not sitting right with him.

But it was clearly sitting even worse with Hiro. His hands went up to his head, first rubbing at his forehead, and then at his mouth, as if he was crawling with bugs, and he was trying to get them off. His breathing was just a little noisier as well, and faster right along with that. Aunt Cass wasted no time before she swooped forward, her eyes wide and her expression deeply concerned. "Hiro, this isn't a good idea," she stressed, not for the first time. "Sweetie, we should go. We shouldn't be here— it's too soon for you."

He closed his eyes tightly. "It's been _months_ ," he got out, through teeth that were tightly clenched.

"It's too soon," she repeated, firmer this time. "Honey, you can't force yourself to do this just because—"

"I _need_ to do this, Aunt Cass," he said, turning now and meeting her eyes for the first time since they'd gotten there. She wilted, taking a small step backwards at the look that was on her nephew's face. He quickly took in another quick breath before going on. "I want to do this," he fixed, softer. "I want to finish everything. I want it _done_." He stared at her desperately for a moment, in complete silence. Then: "I'm tired." Tadashi sharpened at the phrase, not at all able to forget the last time Hiro had said such a thing. But his younger brother held himself in a different way this time; he seemed taller, almost. If that counter for anything. "I'm tired, and I just want…I just want _something_. I'm just trying to get _something_."

It was a poor explanation at the most; it didn't really make much sense. But Cass swallowed it down, bit by little bit. Eventually, she nodded, despite the fact that her hands still wrung tightly in front of her. "Alright," she said gently. "I understand. If…" She turned and glanced down the steps in front of them, her eyes flashing at the darkness that was below. "If you want this…then of course. I won't stop you. I just…I just want you to be happy."

He took in a deep breath, his gaze turning back to uncertain once he looked back at the stairs. He didn't move— he didn't do much of anything, besides stare. Tadashi immediately picked up on this and shuffled forward, edging his way through. "I'll go first," he offered, looking over at Hiro for some kind of approval. Sure enough, relief seemed to replace a little bit of the fear, and Hiro nodded once, taking a step backwards. "Baymax, you just stay up here," Tadashi said over his shoulder as he started along. "There's not much point in you coming down with us."

Baymax blinked once, but nodded, ever dutiful.

Tadashi filed down first, and, taking after his gesture, Aunt Cass went next.

Hiro paused, waiting for them to get down a few landings. But before he followed, he turned, realizing that Baymax was already looking at him. It was like he knew that Hiro had something to say; which wouldn't be a stretch, considering he had demanded Baymax come in the first place. "Baymax…can I ask you something?" he rasped, in the effort not to let the others hear.

Baymax didn't get the memo to be quiet. "Of course," he replied. "I am made to follow orders, Hiro."

He grimaced. "Could you…could you please just look around for a dog? For anything?" Baymax stared at him blankly. Well…at least, Hiro thought it was blankly. The robot usually looked pretty lost; it didn't have much of an expression at all. Which wouldn't be too comforting if you were sick and all that was there to help you was a robot that looked like it had no idea what you were talking about. "Just…try to find something? Her— her name is Nozomi. If you want to call for her. I just…need to know if she's still somewhere around here."

He blinked. "You wish for me to find a dog?" he clarified.

"Yeah," Hiro said, a little shorter now. "I do."

He expected at least one or two more unneeded questions, but to his surprise, Baymax immediately turned and began to walk away. The robot's head turned periodically, and he stopped once and paused. Hiro assumed that he was scanning around himself; he never really asked Tadashi how that worked. Hiro paused for a while more, waiting to see whether he would be needed to anything more. But Baymax was searching intently now; he didn't care that Hiro was still there.

So the young boy turned, however reluctantly, and started down the steps. It was slow going, because of his leg, and it was a little awkward to do so, so he clung tightly with one hand to the railing the entire way down. The last two or three steps he basically fell down, and he had to catch himself at the bottom so that he wouldn't slam directly down into the floor. But once he reached level ground, he could breathe out a small sigh of relief.

Relief that didn't last very long.

Tadashi and Cass were right there, and as soon as Hiro perked, they instantly gravitated back towards him. His hands were wringing together in a habit that he picked up from his aunt, and in the dimness of the room, he had to squint a little bit in order to see. And as soon as he did that, he began to remember all the constant times that he had been forced to narrow his eyes against the dark. Or better yet, close them quickly and grimace away from light that soon came across as too bright, for him. He remembered waking up, and not knowing how much time had passed, or what day it was. He remembered how much his side began to hurt from laying on the wood so much, but never turning and changing positions, because it would take too much energy.

He turned, his hands clenched now as he staggered over to the left, where he had stayed ever since he had pulled the knife on himself. He couldn't quite see in the light, but he wondered if the floor down here was just as bleached— if not more so. He could feel himself start to shake, and he could feel that his eyes were burning again as he looked around. He remembered all of the times he had felt so relieved when Callaghan would finally come back down, and he wasn't alone anymore. He remembered all the times he had pleaded for something as simple as physical touch, just because he was so starved any kind of contact in the first place.

Before he could tell himself to be more discreet, he sniffed and reached up to wipe at his eyes. Aunt Cass came forward and reached out, putting her hand gently on his shoulder. Tadashi shoved his hands away into his pockets, his expression heavy. After another sniff, Hiro took in a slow, slight shaky, breath. "I stayed down here, mostly," he croaked after a while. He looked over to the side, nearer to the wall, where he had normally stayed. It had been easier to prop himself up there, and not have to awkwardly lay down or hold himself in any position. He never had the energy for that.

"I was in…I _was_ in _her_ room. At first," he explained, choosing each word with care. The pair beside him listened in silence. They hadn't gotten much story from Hiro; most of it, they had just gotten from the interview with the police that had gone horribly wrong. Now, he was finally beginning to open up just a little bit. "But…once I did the thing with the knife…he moved me down here."

He moved his jaw awkwardly before he went on, staring at the place he used to spend probably days at a time in the exact same position. "I don't…you know, I really don't remember much after…after I did that. So I don't know if what I have is even true. But…he told me that unless I acted better…unless I acted…more like _her_ …I wasn't going to come back up. And he actually— you know, he left me down here. For…I don't remember. It was a while. With nothing."

He felt a certain kind of sickness well up inside him as he remembered how he had eventually broken down into sobs and wails, begging for him to stay and help him, and promising to be better. To do whatever it took. And that was what he did, really. Ever since then, he changed. Was he still changed? Would he ever not be? Hiro sniffed and rubbed at his cheeks as new tears spilled over. When he went on, his voice was noticeably choked and thick. "Like, it was probably weeks, so you really couldn't blame me for…"

Cass looked away to hide the fact that she was doing the same, in crying.

Tadashi was doing a better job of holding himself together, but his jaw was clenched tightly, and his hands were curled into strained fists.

Hiro breathed out another shaky sigh. "Anyway, I never got back upstairs," he announced hollowly. "Even though I…was better. He never let me back up. Once I wasn't all…strung-out from…from the stuff with my arm and my leg, he just used a bunch of tape. On my wrists, and my ankles. And my mouth." He shrugged, wiped at his eyes again, and wished that his voice would turn back to normal, and not just get more and more constricted. "It wasn't very comfortable, really." He meant this to be a joke, or at the very least something to lighten the mood just a little bit. A little sprinkle of irony. But it fell through.

Surprise, surprise.

His eyes flickered over towards the wall to the right of him. "There used to be a bookshelf, there," he explained. The longer he spoke, the more tired his voice seemed to become. "I remember I used to tell myself that I would read the whole thing, eventually. Just to give me something to do. But…I never felt good enough to go all the way over there." His eyebrows drew together. "I mostly just laid down here." He looked back at the floor, finding that, out of the whole house so far, this was the place he most remembered. Because even though the furniture was gone, it didn't really mattered. All that had been down here in the first place, that had mattered to him, had been this floor, and this darkness. Nothing else really mattered.

He looked over his shoulder, towards the steps. Hauntingly, in the back of his mind, he could recall all the times he had pictured either Aunt Cass or Tadashi sitting right there, staring back at him. Mostly, it had been Tadashi. Or at least, that had been what stuck in his mind the most. He remembered how he had used to call out for them, half because he was probably just senseless from disorientation, and the half just because he was that desperate to think it could make a difference. And he remembered what responses he would usually conjure for himself.

 _You really are a genius, aren't you? Now look at you— you're dying. Isn't that funny?_

It was at this time that Tadashi spoke up, which instinctively caused Hiro to flinch. "That's horrible," his older brother rasped. Some part of him wished that he could say more; or at least something a little better than what came out. However, it was all that managed to stutter out through the shock and that pain that was swamping him in place.

Hiro just kept wringing his hands together, not at all brave enough to turn and glance in his direction. He offered a just-as-lame nod of the head. "Yeah," he murmured. His voice was hardly able to scrape through his throat enough to be heard. "It was." There was a small period of silence, in which Hiro's shoulders seemed to grow heavier, and his expression seemed to get more upset. Then he whispered a small: "It still is." He sniffed and ducked his head down, pressing his hands down into his forehead with enough force to make it ache. "I wish it would all just stop," he confessed in a small cry.

"What can we do?" Aunt Cass finally demanded, her eyes wide as she looked earnestly at her nephew. "Tell us what we can do to help, and we'll do it." Again, she attempted to wipe at her eyes in a way that didn't make it obvious she was, once again, unable to hold it together for him. "I just hate seeing you like this, baby. I want to help you. We both do."

"I don't know," Hiro said, cringing again as he shut both of his eyes tightly. "I don't know."

Silence followed this. It was a gap of nothing but tension and confusion, from everyone gathered together. Lifeless, Hiro dropped his arms back down to his sides, letting them swing back and forth for a few heartbeats. He stared down at the floor for a long period of time, his expression turning sobered and exhausted with each gradual second that dragged itself by. He was starting to remember that as well: how the shadows and the darkness would force the clock to tick each moment by slower than the last.

Without thinking, because not thinking was easier by this point, Hiro's knees began to give out and bend forward. With movement akin to a robot, he lowered himself down until he hit the floor. From there, tugging his sleeves down past his hands, he laid down on the ground and curled his knees up to his chest. Through sheer muscle memory, he twisted down into this reclusive ball, ducking his head so that he could cover his mouth with the inside of his elbow, like he had always done to stifle any excess noise he could have made. The motion of curling close to himself wasn't nearly as painful as it had been when his back and his leg had gone unfixed in Callaghan's house, but the memory was in the back of his mind.

Aunt Cass only seemed to sharpen with concern at Hiro's actions. Likewise, Tadashi stiffened like a board, a deep frown taking over his features immediately. He glanced over at his aunt, looking just as panicked. By this point, Hiro seemed more distant, as if his mind was drifting away somewhere they could not follow. Still, tears blipped their way down his cheeks, though this time, he didn't move to wipe them away. Bending down a little bit, his eyes stretched wide, Tadashi asked: "Hiro? …You okay?"

He gave a small, wet sniff. Weakly, his lips hardly moving, he mumbled: "You think it will ever go away?"

Tadashi's face fell. His shoulders drooped, and he bit down on his lower lip. He glanced back up at Aunt Cass, just in case there was an answer there waiting for him. But they were both running dry when it came to solutions, it seemed. Eventually, unable to think of anything else he could do, and knowing that he couldn't possibly just keep silent like he had been so far, Tadashi took a few steps to the side. With a small sigh, he knelt down and shifted over so that he could lay down at his little brother's side.

Hiro stiffened just a little bit, confusion breaking through the fogginess of his expression. His eyebrows pulled together, and he lifted his head up just a little bit, away from the gag of his own arm. "What are you doing?" he asked, looking at Tadashi as if he had just morphed into a fruit. By this point, his brother was laying down as well, turned over on his side so that he could face him fully.

Tadashi offered him a small smile that was bracing, yet just a little sorrowful at the same time. "I don't know," he confessed. "I just wasn't here for you the first time." He paused for a moment, Hiro continuing to stare at him just a little blankly. "So I think I should probably be here for you now, when I can," he whispered, though his voice seemed to echo in the dark.

Hiro was still for a moment, simply digesting what had been given to him. Aunt Cass remained standing for a heartbeat or more, her hand straying up to clasp at her collar, as she looked at the two in front of her. Her two nephews that, sometimes, she had to remind herself were just her nephews, and not her own sons she'd had from the very beginning. Sometime in the middle of all this mess, when Hiro was missing, and Tadashi was despondent, she had thought that she had failed as an aunt— as a guardian in general. And maybe she had; maybe in some way, that was still correct in the first place.

But looking at them now, she was nearly unable to breathe through the sheer amount of relief and love that was welling up in her eyes. Here they were, not out of the thick of things at all, but somehow getting there, little by little. Hiro had made it this far, by some impossible odds, and he was still trying to make it through. And Tadashi was still just as perfect and trying just as hard, despite whatever was happening at school, or all that he had learned about his professor.

It was a thought that she'd had before, but it seemed to carry through and ring true even now: she did not deserve these two kids.

As the thought shoved itself to the forefront of her mind, she smiled Tadashi's same, heartbroken grin. She followed suit after him so that she could lay down at Hiro's other side. Hiro turned as she did so, the same sense of disbelief and puzzlement flashing over his face as she curled up close beside him. He blinked and, in an exchange that might have been awkward had it been any other situation, he turned and looked from one person to the other, slowly trying to piece together what was happening.

Eventually, Hiro turned so that he was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Aunt Cass and Tadashi followed in his example to do the same. And the three of them took to complete silence, just staring up at nothing in particular and listening to the sound of absolutely nothing. While Hiro adopted a look of something akin to apathy, Tadashi and Aunt Cass were obviously more concerned. The pair of them stayed still and unmoving, looking up and trying to picture doing this same exact thing day in and day out, for the better part of an entire year. What Hiro had been forced to do, and what seemed, to them, to be entirely impossible.

The silence was broken after only a minute or so of this quiet. And surprisingly, it was broken by a sudden burst of laughter. Tadashi and Aunt Cass turned, their faces mirrored expressions of bemusement as they realized that Hiro was doubled over in this small fit of giggles. Though tears still marked their way down his face, and once he stopped laughing, he did still retain that little bit of sorrow, he wore a broad grin on his face, and seemed much more content than before. He looked at the two on either side of him, who still looked blindsided and unsure about what they were supposed to do. It only made him grin even more, though.

He pushed himself up to a sitting position with a small wince and shook his head from side to side. He looked down at his hands, which were resting in his lap, and his smile turned much fonder and warmer. Once his family did the same in sitting up, he gave the soft announcement of: "You guys are the best." The two visibly softened over with the statement. "And I don't know what I would do without you," Hiro went on, his voice just as quiet.

Cass leaned over and wrapped Hiro up tightly, pulling him close and refusing to let go as she peppered his cheek with tiny kisses. Tadashi snorted with laughter, leaning over after a second to join the embrace, to make it a group hug. Hiro found himself cramped in between the two of them, hardly able to breathe through the pressure that was applied from either side. And his oxygen predicament was not helped from the fact that every so often, as a product of Aunt Cass' smothering, he was forced to surrender to a series of giggles in between every peck.

But it was the last of his worries. By now, Tadashi was saying something that Hiro wasn't exactly listening to, Aunt Cass still relentless in her kisses. Hiro wasn't paying as much attention; he was just staring straight ahead, his expression clearing little by little as a sense of realization began to dawn over him. It might not be thought of as anything big to anyone else; they might not understand it as much as he did. But when the thought occurred to him, and when he made the connection, Hiro was left nearly winded with the idea.

That, held between the two people who meant most to him in this world, he felt safe, and he felt comforted. He felt warm, and that for once, something was maybe turning over right in his direction. He hadn't felt it for a while. He hadn't felt it down here, more specifically. He hadn't been able to see things in such a way for quite some time— at least as clear as it struck him then, in this moment.

But he felt okay. That _things_ could possibly be okay. Maybe not now, where he was. Maybe not immediately, right this second. But in time. Possibly. If he had them with him to lay down right beside him, like they just did. Maybe then, he could struggle through this last bit; if they helped him along. If they made sure not to leave him behind, and if they stuck together, like they were always meant to. Maybe then, things would be okay. They would pick up, and they would be better. Just maybe.

And at the same time as this idea occurred to him, the basement around Hiro seemed to get just a little bit brighter.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Her room was the most recognizable, besides the basement. But that was mostly just because the wallpaper was the same, and exactly like Hiro recalled it. It was that same pale white, with those same little butterflies flying here and there. He could remember where the furniture had been; the fact was engrained in his mind. He could remember all her posters, and he could remember where her drawers and where her vanity had been arranged.

But mostly, crossing the threshold of the room, Hiro could recall the moment that he first woke up here, and made the connection that something had gone horribly wrong.

He remembered that part vividly.

He could remember opening his eyes, and feeling like fire-hot rush of panic that went through him. He remembered how, at first, the only rational explanation that had gone through his head, was that it had been some ruse created by Tadashi in order to teach him some kind of lesson about sneaking out at night. He remembered Callaghan coming in and only making him even more confused, going on about how they were a family, and that nothing else mattered. And Hiro remembered how, when he had begun screaming out for help, Callaghan had struck him across the face, in a blow hard enough to scatter his brain.

Little did he know back then, that such a thing would soon be thought as commonplace.

Uncomfortably, Hiro crossed his arms over his chest. He exhaled, taking a few small steps forward so that he could stand at the window. The only window in the room. The window he had used to watch desperately at night, with each passing headlight of a car down below. The window he had actually broken in the attempt to get some kind of out, or at least the hope of one. Looking down now, Hiro stared despondently over to the next house, probably less than five yards away, and the road that was passing to the side.

"The next house is so close," Hiro remarked. "I mean…I knew that— I saw outside this window once. But…still." He tried to pass off a small smile. It was easier than anything else. "It's almost funny. You know?"

"You wanna talk about funny?" Tadashi asked, perking up from where he was lingering in the corner. Aunt Cass still stood in the door, as if she was afraid of actually entering the room. But she was watching her two boys intently. Tadashi walked over, propping himself up against the wall and pointing over at that nearest house. "On Halloween, my friends and I decided that we would investigate this neighborhood." Hiro turned, glancing over at him and raising his eyebrows. "It wasn't anything impressive; we just…you know, went from house to house and pretended to trick-or-treat. Fred was the only one dressed up." He paused, and then added snidely: "Pretty sure he was the only person that was having fun."

Aunt Cass sharpened a bit. "You told me you were studying with them on Halloween!"

Tadashi shot Hiro a look, feeling a sense of happiness at the grin that automatically spread over Hiro's face as a result. "But anyway, we went to that house, and I will tell you right now, the woman that lives there is the nicest old lady you will ever come across in your entire life. As in, I'm pretty sure she would give you cookies if you burned her house to the ground." He snorted. "Fred was smitten, because she said that she liked his costume. He probably talked about her all night. I'm surprised he hasn't started a fan club for her yet."

Hiro breathed out a small laugh through his nose. "Sounds like a fun Halloween," he remarked.

Tadashi grimaced a little bit. "Not really," he replied. Hiro's smile faded, and Tadashi's did too. He looked once more over at his little brother, a touch more reluctant this time. "I mean…we hung out afterwards. I guess. They wanted to go to some…" His forehead creased, and he dropped his arms down to his sides, leaning back into his hips and pulling away from the glass. Hiro watched him intently. "They wanted to go to some…haunted house kind of thing that was being thrown downtown. We went— I think Honey Lemon lost her voice, because she was screaming so much. And Wasabi had to hold Fred back from punching one of the actors. But…"

Hiro tried to pass off yet another grin. "Sounds fun," he repeated, as if to encourage him along.

Tadashi shook his head. "No, it wasn't. I was just…" He shoved his hands down into his pockets. "I was just thinking of you the entire time. Where you were, you know? What you might be doing."

He glanced down at the ground, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. "Looks like I ruined a pretty good night," he tried to joke.

But Tadashi didn't find it funny. He wasn't in the mood to joke. "No," he said, looking at his brother in a way that could almost be seen as stern. Or maybe steady was the correct word to use. "No, you didn't. Not at all." Hiro closed one eye in a wince, shifting to stuff his hands down into his hoodie pocket. "I was just remembering what was most important to me," Tadashi went on. "That was all."

Hiro cracked a small smile. "Well…I guess I was thinking about you, too. So I can't complain."

Tadashi hesitated for what felt like forever. At first, Hiro wondered whether it was because he was too afraid to voice whatever it was he had to say, or whether it was because he was too afraid to hear the answer that Hiro would give to it. Once he did force himself to speak up, Hiro realized that it was most likely a mixture of the two. "What were you doing? On Halloween? Did…did anything…?"

Hiro ducked down a fraction, trying to think back all the way to that night. It was a little difficult to do; a lot of his memories were scrambled, and unchronological. It was like someone took books off a shelf and threw them down into a scrambled pile on the floor— rifling through the stack to try and find a specific book, you were met with a bunch of random ones that you never wanted in the first place. But eventually, he tracked it down successfully, however hesitant he was to drag it back up.

 _Hiro? It's Halloween today; did you notice that?_

"Uh…well, I didn't do much," he mumbled. "I just…stayed downstairs. Uh…I listened to the doorbell ring over and over," he said with a lame smile. "So…you know, it wasn't really that much fun. To just sit there and listen to people come and go. But…it wasn't like I had much of a choice, right?" He turned, reaching out towards the wall and letting his hand ghost over the silhouette of one of the butterflies. Distantly, in the back of his mind, he wondered whether or not Abigail had reached out and touched this same exact spot, in this same exact way. In that same tone of voice, attempting to be light and dismissive, he offered: "I ate a peanut butter cup."

 _A bit of candy will raise the spirits! C'mon!_

This was enough to jar Aunt Cass into action, for the first time since she'd come up here. "You _what_?" she demanded, her eyes stretching wide. Entering the room now, she began her signature hovering, like she always did whenever either of her nephews said anything that was mildly disconcerting.

He didn't turn to look at her; Tadashi noticed that his expression began to crawl over in discomfort. "Well…yeah, I…yeah. He, uh…he came downstairs with a bunch of them. And he really wanted me to eat one. Apparently they were her favorite." Cass' face darkened over significantly as she listened. "I tried to tell him that I was allergic, but…"

 _Well? Eat it._

Impulsively, his eyes flickered over to where Tadashi was standing.

His brother stiffened, picking up on the accidental look in a flash. "What?" he asked, suspiciousness curling the back of his question.

"N-Nothing," Hiro said quickly, flinching away from the sharp question. "It's just…he just told me that…that you were there." Tadashi slouched. This was already known, of course— in its bareness. But not with context. "He told me that he saw you, and that he just talked to you. But…he said that if I didn't eat the stupid candy…then…" He cringed and shook his head quickly. "Well, he just said that if I didn't eat the candy, then we both knew what would happen." Those last six words fell like rocks out of his mouth, and they fell just as heavily down onto Tadashi and Aunt Cass' ears.

Hiro paused, remembering the way his heart had immediately picked up to a race with the undisguised threat. He remembered how terrified he had been, and, sickened, how he had forced the piece of chocolate down his throat. Just thinking back to it was enough to cause his throat to swell and ache. "So I ate it," he rasped. "There wasn't really a contest. He knew that saying that would always make me do whatever he wanted me to." It was his way of saying that it happened more than just a few times— so that he didn't have to listen to the question.

Silence.

Aunt Cass seemed to be getting overwhelmed. But she managed to get out a tiny: "Were you alright?"

He remembered how he had broken out in bright red hives and sores. He remembered how painful the burning had been, and how much he had wanted to rip off his own skin. But more importantly, he remembered how Callaghan had cradled him in his arms, rocking him back and forth as Hiro clung to him desperately. How he had begged for comfort from the person who had inflicted the situation on him. He closed his eyes and breathed out shakily. He shook his head, feeling sick. "Not really." He had to swallow back the lump in his throat before he could go any further. "But I did what I had to."

 _There! You see? That wasn't hard, was it?!_

Tadashi instantly shook his head. "You didn't have to do anything, Hiro," he protested.

Hiro looked over at him, his eyes raw with pain. "No," he pushed. "I had to make sure that I was the only one getting hurt."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It was getting dark, they had been here for so long. Now, Hiro stood in the empty kitchen of the house, pensive and silent as he simply stood and tried to drink everything in, and digest it all. His head felt a little lighter than normal, making him feel dizzy or disoriented. After walking for so long – the longest time since he had gotten patched up, most likely – he was left sapped and exhausted. Some part of him just wanted to curl up and sleep for about six months.

He turned, looking over near where the corner. He remembered when Callaghan had dragged him downstairs and had first cut his hair short to the head. He'd done it frequently over the year Hiro had been here, making sure that his hair never grew to be even the slightest bit wrong.

Aunt Cass approached him cautiously, as if he was a skittish deer she didn't want to frighten away. Gently, she draped her arm around his shoulders. "You okay, honey?" she murmured.

Hiro closed his eyes tightly.

 _When can we be a family, Hiro? When can you be happy here? With me?_

 _Until you become more like her, you're_ nothing. _What were you like_ before _this? You were nothing but a piece of_ crap!

"I think…I just want to go home," Hiro managed after a moment's pause.

Aunt Cass was more than prepared to take that opportunity. "Of course! We can go right now!" she offered. "Here, I'll go and get Baymax, alright? So you don't have to." She looked over her shoulder to Tadashi, who seemed just as anxious to leave the empty house. Keeping silent so that Hiro would not hear, she simply mouthed over to her elder nephew: 'Stay with him.' Tadashi nodded once, and then, throwing one last worried look at Hiro, Cass withdrew and hurried outside, calling for Baymax as she went.

For a moment, Tadashi reserved himself to silence. But eventually, looking at the stiffened posture of his younger brother, he asked: "How come you wanted Baymax to come?" Hiro just got more rigid, not offering another answer. Tadashi glanced down at the ground, feeling increasingly uncomfortable the longer he stood here. In not only his professor's home, but in the place where Hiro was kept and beaten for just a little bit more than twelve months. He crossed his arms over his chest. He closed one eye in an expression of pain. And he piped up softly to ask: "Why did _you_ want to come here?"

Hiro turned to look back at him. He didn't say anything, but the look on his face seemed to say enough. It was almost hard to maintain eye contact with.

Tadashi went on. "Why _now_?"

Hiro shrugged slowly— a hollow gesture. "I thought…maybe it would help." He blinked and turned away again, hunching his shoulders. "They want me to speak in court soon," he said. "But…I can't even talk about what happened with you guys. Not all of it, anyway. So…I just thought…maybe if I went back here with you…it could help me start. Because…I feel like I _should_ speak at the trial. I just…don't know if I _can_. Or at least…that was a part of it," he added.

"You don't have to go there if you don't want to," Tadashi reminded him. "You don't owe anyone anything."

Hiro shook his head. "But I owe _myself_ something." He turned to look at him expectantly. "Don't I?"

The question, however small and short it was, was powerful enough to punch Tadashi square in the gut. It knocked the wind out of him, and his mouth ran dry. He didn't reply. He just held his stare silently, which was, in a way, as much of an answer as anything else would be. Or at least, it was all that Hiro was going to expect in response. Dimly, he tried to imagine what he would feel if the roles had been swapped, and it had been Tadashi instead of him. He would probably be just as silent— just as lost on what he should do or say.

Heck, he was like that _now_.

Hiro broke the quiet, finding it too stifling to wait through. "I know I don't owe anyone else anything," he amended. "I just…thought maybe…if I were able to do this..." He didn't finish; he just offered a rather weak smile in his direction. "We should go," he changed quickly. "Aunt Cass is gonna get tired of waiting. She never wanted to come in the first place."

Before he could start for the door, he was stopped. "Did it work?" Tadashi asked, his voice laced with caution.

Hiro stirred. He turned and stuffed his hands down into his hoodie pocket. "Did what work?"

He knew what the question was referring to, of course. But he figured he may as well try anyway.

"Did it work?" Tadashi repeated. "Coming here. Do you feel…any different?" The thought of Hiro relapsing back into that sorrowful state he had dragged himself through before finally breaking down, was enough to color every crevice of his features in concern. If truth were to be told, he would probably rather have someone chop his own arm off, than have to watch his little brother go through all of that again. Maybe going to speak at court wasn't a good idea. Maybe going into the limelight like that would just make things go down the drain.

They had taken so many steps forward…what if they suddenly slid back three hundred feet?

Hiro took a long pause to consider the question. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, deliberating over what was really the truthful answer. Eventually, he moved his shoulders up and down again, in that same, unsure gesture. "I don't think I ever expected to feel _better_ about it, I mean. Not _good_ , or _alright_ ," he said. "I just…" He hesitated. Tadashi could literally see him struggle to piece something decent together. Even when he took in a quick breath, and forced himself to continue, it was still more than a little bit flat. And his eyebrows were pulled together into an expression of subtle discomfort. "I thought I might be able to…feel a little bit…less…" He trailed off. He took in a slow breath, and let the last word come out in nothing more than an exhale. "…stuck."

Tadashi wilted, and very noticeably.

Hiro caught this and tried to offer a small smile. Though it felt fake and fragile on his face. "It's not that bad. I know that I'm back. And I know that…there's really no way anything else bad could happen, you know? It's just…I can't seem to separate…myself from everything. That happened. It's like…I've got two sides of me." He lifted his shoulders up and down in a pathetic little shrug. "And I'm just not sure which one I am anymore."

Tadashi's mouth ran dry. He looked at Hiro in complete silence for what seemed like forever. Looking right back at him, Hiro felt the tear in his chest that was becoming all-too familiar now. This stare was getting more and more frequent— or maybe he was just recognizing it more. But it was always that same stare of pity and sorrow and frustration that he usually received whenever he said something out of place or unprepared. Or it was the stare he could feel drilling through him from Aunt Cass whenever she thought he wasn't paying any attention to her. And it was certainly the look that Tadashi was giving him right this very moment, in the very house that had started it all.

Eventually, his brother did speak up. And though the words seemed lame to him, they caused Hiro to wilt and slouch over just a little bit. " _I_ know which one you are." He didn't say anything in response to it— he wasn't sure what he would have. Tadashi must have realized this, because he tilted his head to the side and tucked his hands down into his pockets. "And maybe…it's okay if you don't know that yet," he continued, choosing each word with weight and care that betrayed only concern as to what should really be said. "As long…as long as you know that I know. And that Aunt Cass knows, too. And that you don't forget that."

In the middle of them seemed, at least briefly, to hang that early morning when Tadashi had stumbled into the bathroom. The shock and the panic and the fear when he had tried to wake Hiro up, to no successful avail. The memory, in its own way, seemed to push up in between them and shove them farther apart. Or at least fear of such a thing. For a moment, trying to breathe through the heaviness, the two brothers merely stared at each other, both a little blankly.

Hiro shook his head. "I won't. Not again. I promise."

They weren't speaking about, technically. There was no detail, and each of them hopped and dodged the central topic. But it did not take away the meaning that both of them were fully aware of. And it did not take away the relief that swelled up in Tadashi's eyes, and the small smile that twitched over his face. "Alright," he said eventually, his voice coming out just a little bit smaller and softer than before. "Then it's alright. Everything else can come when it's ready— when _you're_ ready. But as long as you know that, then how long it takes doesn't matter. Because it'll come; I know it will."

He smiled. And this time, it wasn't forced, and it wasn't pushed. It was genuine, and it was real. It felt odd to smile in such a way, standing in the middle in a place where he hardly ever got to wear such an expression. In another way, though, it felt liberating. It felt soothing, and reassuring. "Yeah," he agreed, and for once he could acknowledge the fact that he wasn't lying, or simply shrugging something off in the hopes that attention would fall off of him. It just came naturally. "Yeah, of course."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Heading outside, it was somehow even colder, and Hiro quickly pulled his hood tightly over his head. Tadashi shivered as well, and reached down to tug the sleeves of his heavy coat down a little more so that they could cover his hands. Looking over the yard that, once upon a time, must have been carefully maintained and doted on, Hiro's eyes landed on Aunt Cass a ways away. She was standing over by Baymax, and if Hiro knew her at all, going by the look on her face, she had been trying to engage in some awkward conversation with him.

She lit up once she spotted the two of them coming out of the house. There was no mistaking the relief that flooded through her expression, either. She had been wanting to leave this place ever since they first walked into it. Or pretty much ever since they first got into the car, really. However, she seemed to remember herself quickly when she caught sight of Hiro, and wiped the joy clean off her face. "You ready to go?" she asked, in a much tenderer tone of voice. There was a spark of concern in her eyes as she looked him over, as well. She started back over to her nephews, and Baymax was quick to toddle after. "Did you…find what you needed?" This question was a bit more cautiously put forward.

Hiro gnawed on the inside of his cheek. His eyes flickered over to Baymax, and the robot blinked once in response. "Not…exactly," he said, the words falling down a little bit lamely. He'd looked in each room that he could stomach. He'd looked around the yard before coming into the house, and he'd looked out one of the windows, into the street. He'd come up with nothing though, in terms of Nozomi. At Aunt Cass' disappointed look, he quickly shoved his hands down into his hoodie pocket and added: "It's alright, though. Really. It was a long shot, anyway, and I…" He shrugged a little bit. "I guess I figured it from the beginning."

She didn't seem too sure on what he should say. So she just marched forward and put her hands tightly on his shoulders, giving them a soft squeeze. Then she drew him closer, so that she could lean down and plant a loving kiss on his forehead. Though it was just a bit saddened, she gave him a small smile. "Let's go home, honey," she encouraged. "It's too cold to stay out here much longer."

He grinned, and nodded once. "Yeah," he agreed. "Home."

The three turned and started to head back for the car. By this point, Hiro was getting tired; though he was trying his best to remain upbeat, all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep for about three years straight. He didn't want to do much more today; in fact, in terms of 'today', he'd pretty much reached the allotted 'wall'. So when they rounded the house and started down to where they were parked along the street, Hiro felt a strong wave of relief like a punch to the gut.

However, as soon as he was almost to the door of the car, there was a sudden call of alarm that caused each and every one of them to stop. "I know you!" Hiro closed his eyes briefly, feeling a sting of dread, but mostly a sting of irritation and disappointment that they were going to be held up. He _really_ just wanted to go home. But nevertheless, he followed after Tadashi and Aunt Cass, and he turned to look back as well.

At the house directly next to Callaghan's, an elderly woman was standing on the porch, wearing a robe that looked about three times bigger than it should be. She was wearing a wool-knit hat as well, and in her hands she was holding a mug. Hiro wasn't sure what would be in it, but it was steaming, so he naturally felt a small tug of jealousy for it. At first, Hiro thought that the woman had called out to him. It wouldn't be too much of a leap to think, after all, considering he was probably on every news station there was. But once he turned around, bracing himself for the attention, he was a little caught off-guard to realize she had called out to Tadashi.

There was a pleasant smile on her face as she looked at his older brother. "You came to my house on Halloween!" she reminded him, and Hiro was even more surprised to see that Tadashi's face was also breaking out into a wide grin. "You and your friends were trick-or-treating! Oh, and your one friend just looked so darling in his little outfit!"

Aunt Cass looked a little lost as well; she and Hiro made a good pair, with their mirrored expressions of befuddlement. Tadashi was the exact opposite though. Grinning a little bit, he shifted so that he could be near the front of the group— more able to see her. "That's right!" he called back, having to speak a little loudly due to their distance. "Your…your name was Mrs. Shelts, right?" He had to grasp at straws to get the name back, but he eventually did. How could he forget her?

He turned, looking back at Hiro and putting a hand down on his shoulder. He drew him a bit closer, so that he was standing at his side, rather than back behind him. "Hiro, this is Mrs. Shelts. She helped me get pointed in the right direction, actually." He tried to think of the best way to phrase this, that would be gentle, and not at all a means of dragging up any more unpleasant memories. Hiro was looking far too tired by this point to inflict any more on him. "We told her we were the Neighborhood Committee; she complained about the noise."

"Oh goodness, I never complained!" she yelped. She turned, starting down off her porch and beginning to pick her way over to the group. As she neared, she turned sneezed into her elbow, giving a small sniff before grinning and moving on. She turned and looked down at Hiro, who tried to return her large smile just as genuinely. "There you are, my dear! I've heard so much about you!" Her smile was quick to drop, however, and Hiro stiffened just a little bit as she leaned down and took hold of his shoulders, just as Aunt Cass had done. The look on her face was one of deep relief and concern, and it was almost strange to see such deep emotion coming from a complete stranger. In fact, it was almost a little haunting. "I'm _very_ glad that you were found, my dear," she said, each word fortified with feeling. "Had I known that you were there, I _certainly_ would have done something. I'm _very_ sorry, my dear."

His smile turned a little brittle. Though it hadn't been all that strong in the first place. But given that this was who it was, and knowing that he couldn't possibly do anything different, Hiro did offer a soft and bracing: "Thank you. It's…it's no problem, really." As the words passed his lips, Hiro's attention was drawn back to Callaghan's house. That was the point; _nobody_ had known. Nobody could have possibly looked at this well-put-together man, and this well-put-together house, and put two and two together. Just guessing at such a thing must have been close to blasphemy.

It wasn't an excuse for the long nights where Hiro would watch the headlights of cars pass by the home. It certainly wasn't an excuse for the doorbell ringing over and over again on Halloween, yet nobody coming in or demanding to be told where he was. But it was an explanation, at least. It was a reason. Looking at the home now, even he himself couldn't argue against the fact that there was something wrong with it. There wasn't a clue or a hint that anything bad had even taken place inside its rooms, though Hiro was the best person to know the opposite was true.

Why would it have been any different while Hiro was there?

Mrs. Shelts sneezed again, and it was enough to jar Hiro back into the present. Thankfully, she had pulled back and turned her head to the side, so it didn't get all over him. But it was in that moment that he realized that her nose was still wrapped up in the holiday season; it was bright red. He opened his mouth to say something, but she beat him to the punch. Once she recovered from her second sneeze and sniffed a few times, she turned back to survey the family. Very satisfied, she looked first to Aunt Cass, but then back down to Hiro. "You have a _lovely_ family," she gushed.

He felt a warm rush of affection. Surer, he smiled big. "Yeah," he replied. "Yeah, I know. I do."

This time, Mrs. Shelts really did turn over to Aunt Cass. Her smile turned a little bit more sympathetic. "If you ever would like any help, it's the least I could do. I make a mean lasagna, if I do say so myself." Aunt Cass flushed gratefully at the offer; before she could accept the extension, though, she stiffened awkwardly as Mrs. Shelts turned aside again and gave her third sneeze, closely followed by a fourth.

"Are you okay?" Tadashi asked, looking a little alarmed by this point. Or at the very least, startled.

Baymax piped up from where he was standing. It caused Hiro to jerk in surprise; he had almost forgotten that the robot had come here in the first place. "She is experiencing clogged sinuses, and difficulty breathing. These are all standard symptoms of an allergic reaction."

Hiro did not miss the fact that, at the robot's interjection, Tadashi swelled with pride.

"Oh, it's nothing! I've been stuffy for months!" Mrs. Shelts giggled. "It's the price you've got to pay when you've got little paws running around, you know!" Hiro went rigid, a sense of pain flooding into his eyes at the mention. His heart tugged, and he suddenly felt even more in need of a bed to curl up in. "I always was a little allergic, you know. My daughter used to have this little poodle when she was younger, and I sneezed all day long. But I couldn't very well say no to this little one."

Tadashi glanced over at Hiro, and thankfully enough, he seemed to realize that they should probably put a stop to this. He cleared his throat and started to draw it to a close. "Well, we really need to be going. It's been a long day, and—"

"If you do not mind, I would like to ask if I could scan your animal," Baymax interrupted.

Tadashi's nose wrinkling as he leaned back a little bit. "What?" he asked, looking at the robot as if he suddenly changed into a fruit without any warning whatsoever. "Baymax, you don't have to do that— don't be ridiculous."

Baymax seemed confused. If he could be confused. "Hiro has asked me to come here for the sole purpose of scanning animals," he said. Tadashi turned his bemused face over to his little brother, who was already rubbing hard at his forehead. "I have not found an animal yet; so I would like to scan this one." He perked again, back at Mrs. Shelts. He requested again: "I would like to scan your animal."

Aunt Cass was alarmed. "Hiro? Why would you—?"

"I'm sorry," Hiro sighed. His voice was hardly able to be heard at all; it barely scraped through his throat, to hang in the air between them all. His expression was worn and tired, and his tone was fit to match. He studied the ground mostly, reaching back and rubbing his neck. "I thought…that if I came here I might find her." He grimaced and backtracked. "I— when I was— when I was _there_ , I had a dog."

Aunt Cass's eyebrows pulled together a bit; Hiro wasn't sure he'd ever told her about Nozomi. But Tadashi looked just as pained. His eyes flickered over to the house that was now a ways away from them. "She was…she meant a lot to me, I just— I just wanted to find her." His voice got a bit weaker as he went on. It failed him a bit, and he broke off for a moment to try and recollect himself. But his expression was still dismal, and his eyes were still glassy as he mumbled: "I haven't been able to find her. She just disappeared one day."

Aunt Cass wilted. "You didn't tell me you had a dog."

"He gave her to me," he mumbled, a little ungraciously, given the continued situation he did not wish to be in. "She looked exactly like…like _hers_. But she was still mine." There was a long period of silence. He gave a slow sigh. "One night, he took her away from me, and I never saw her again. I…I tried to search animal shelters, but she wasn't there. I guess…I was hoping she would be somewhere here. But— I mean, I guess it was a long shot anyway." He glanced over the ground a few more times, then, as if he was trying to commit each and every crack to memory.

Eventually, Hiro shook his head and started to turn for the car. "I want to go home," he said, finality to each word.

"What did your dog look like, my dear?" Mrs. Shelts asked suddenly, before Aunt Cass could readily comply.

He stilled, and some part of him wanted to ignore the question altogether. He didn't really want to think about it. But, thinking back to how kind she had been before, Hiro found such a thing impossible to do, and he resigned himself to turning back. "She was just all white," he sighed. "There wasn't really anything else about her. She was fluffy— her tail was curled."

Her eyes flew wide in astonishment. She reached up and pulled her robe a little bit tighter over herself. "'All white?'" she repeated. Hiro's face fell in uncertainty. "You don't think…?" When her words were only met with blank stares from everyone involved, she shook her head and took a small step closer to Hiro. "You see, honey, the source of my sniffles _is_ a dog that's all white! With a curly little tail!" He straightened a little bit, and despite the small spark in the back of his eyes, he locked his jaw backwards, as if to steady himself against the hope.

She continued though, her voice picking up in excitement. "She's a very little dog that I've had for a few months now! Sometime during last winter, I found her just wandering around my yard! She was a poor, lost little thing, you know; it was so sad! She was so small and alone, so I took her into my home and kept an eye out for those missing posters! You know the ones: with the photo and the number to call? She had no collar, after all; I couldn't find an address myself. But nothing showed up and nobody came looking, so I've just kept her since then!" She tilted her head to the side. "Do you think she might be yours?"

"I'm…" Words failed him for a heartbeat. He frowned, and his shoulders curled forward. He was grasping at straws mentally— frantically. Would he dare to even try and think about what it might mean if he said yes? What if he said yes – what if he dared to hope – and it turned out that it was some other dog? Would he even be able to tell? His mouth was dry. His hands were shaking, and he clenched them tightly in the effort to hide the fact.

He spit it out. "M-Maybe," he spluttered. "Can I…do you think I could…?"

She smiled gently. "Let me go call her, dear. I never wanted to let her out by herself, considering she might run away from me, too!" She added this last part with a small wink. Hiro just waited, and watched with a stare of complete apprehension as she turned and made back for her house.

Baymax was staring attentively at Hiro. "Your heart rate has increased dramatically," he noted.

"Are you okay?" Tadashi asked. Clearly, going by the look on his face, he was just a fearful of being let down as Hiro was. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, in a sign of discomfort. Hiro didn't reply; he was clasping and unclasping his hands together now, and he was chewing on the inside of his cheek as his eyes stayed glued to Mrs. Shelts. The elder brother sighed gently through his nose, and he leaned over to put his hand gently on his shoulder. "Hey," he said, softer. Concern was heavily shaded across his face. "You okay?"

Aunt Cass was fiddling with a strand of hair. She rushed in to help comfort her nephew. "Honey, you know that it'll be alright, okay? Even if it's not it, honey, we can go out and look for her, if you want! You never said anything— I had no idea, otherwise I would have asked before if you wanted to do something about it. Alright? We can look for however long as you'd like!"

Hiro didn't reply. His mouth was a small, thin line, and he just watched as Mrs. Shelts opened the door and leaned inside. He could hear her call out into the house, even from where he stood. "Buttons!" she called, pausing a moment before calling again: "Buttons! Come here, little one! Buttons!" _Buttons?_ Hiro's stomach twisted in on itself at the name. That wasn't— it wasn't _her_ name. Her name was Nozomi.

It _had_ been, anyway. Not Buttons.

Hiro felt his heart start to plummet hard down to his feet, and he tried to turn back to the car. This time, he was bent on at least opening the door, to shut out the rest of the world. However, once he did lean over to grab the handle of the car, he heard a sharp gasp from Aunt Cass, and a hushed mumble of surprise from Tadashi. The tension that had been in the air previously, was shattered suddenly by something, and Hiro found that his attention was wrenched back front.

Immediately, he went rigid. His eyes flew wide and huge, and suddenly he forgot how to do simple things like breathe, or blink. Because, in a flurry of paws and barks, a white fluff burst out of the house and down onto the porch. For a moment, all the dog was concerned about was Mrs. Shelts; it circled around her in excitement, barking a few more times as if to call out a nice hello. But then she apparently became aware of the attention that was on her.

Her ears perked, and she skidded to a stop. She looked over, and her eyes eventually landed on Hiro. He was completely motionless, just staring at the dog in sheer disbelief. Because he knew her. He knew the shape of her ears, and he knew the curl of her tail. He knew that when she was this excited, she would shuffle her paws in that exact dance. He knew that if he held her close, she would fit into his chest perfectly. He knew that if he buried his face away in her fur, despite anything else that might be happening, he would feel just the slightest bit better.

He knew the dog that he was staring at.

And suddenly, he couldn't even see her clearly anymore, as his vision immediately blurred over with tears.

Nozomi broke into furious barking once she saw Hiro. Somehow, by some miracle that had surely been a long time coming at the very least, there was recognition. She jumped up into the air and sprinted away from Mrs. Shelts. She flew across the yard and pelted straight for him, yipping the entire way. Hiro let out a laugh that was more of a spluttering sob, and he might have been embarrassed about such a noise, had it been in any other situation. But for now, he just rushed forward, completely forgetting the sore ache in his back, and the awkward way he limped, thanks to his leg.

He rushed to meet the dog in the middle, and once he did, he dropped down heavily on his knees, thankful for the grass as he threw his arms outwards. Nozomi crashed into them and wasted no time before she reared up on her hind legs and placed her two front paws on Hiro's chest. In doing so, she could reach his face, and she immediately began to cover it with frantic and excited licks. Her entire body was shaking, but Hiro's probably was, too. He wrapped his arms around her so tight that he was worried she would yelp. He hugged her close to his chest, and it felt the searing pain of familiarity at the way she felt there.

He'd found her. She was here— she was _alive_. She wasn't hidden away somewhere. Buried long since, like he'd dreaded was the case. This entire time, and he had been waiting for Baymax to pick something up that would show him Nozomi would not be coming back. He hadn't been sure exactly what, but he'd feared it. But the robot had ended up picking up allergies instead. And in turn, he'd picked up Hiro's dog, perfectly happy and safe. Exactly like he remembered her.

The pain in his chest built and built upon itself, until Hiro broke down. He clung fast to Nozomi, his head buried down in her fur like it always used to be. Thick sobs jerked Hiro's skinny frame, and he cried with complete disregard to the attention that was surely focused on him. His shoulders heaved, and he felt hot tears rush down to stain his cheeks. But he didn't care.

Because suddenly, it occurred to him…that he was _here_.

That he was sitting in the front yard of a house that was a mere few feet away from Callaghan's. That he was holding his dog again, which he'd already deemed before, as probably something that would be completely impossible. That just behind him, surely, was Tadashi and Aunt Cass, already poised and ready to dart forward and comfort him, if they found that there was a line to be drawn. That somehow, despite the twelve long months of pain and isolation and nightmares and crying, he was still here and he was still breathing. That, even though it had been hard, and God, had it been the hardest thing in this entire stupid world, he had done it, somehow. That he had been able to scrounge up the nerve to enter the house he had once thought that he would never get to leave.

That now, maybe with this first step, he could begin to stop and lean down, to pick up the pieces of himself that had fallen off along the way.

It occurred to him that he was just fine. That he was okay, and even though he was worse for wear, it didn't really matter. Because he was still _here_. Tadashi was still _here_. Aunt Cass was still _here_. Nozomi was still _here_. They were all still _here_. And he was fine. He was _going_ to be fine.

It occurred to him…that maybe this entire situation hadn't been an 'end' at all.

That maybe this entire thing had been something completely different.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: Full author disclosure, I _absolutely_ intended, from the day that I made Nozomi disappear, for her not to come back at all. But upon thinking about it, and in light of recent events that have taken place in my life…I decided that there was nothing wrong with happier endings. That maybe it's something that's needed. So I made this decision instead, and I am going to stand by it. I hope you all approve.

After this chapter, there will be one more real chapter, and then a very special one after that. I said before that I intend to finish this before school starts back up again, and I am 100% going to keep to that promise. I dragged myself through my first semester of college, but I ended up doing so with flying colors. So now that I have no classes to study for, I have free time to finish this story; which is bittersweet, because this is probably my favorite story I've done on this website. I hope I do this ending justice.

I hope you all are excited, because I am truly going to put my _all_ into these remaining two chapters, and try to make them as _brilliant_ as humanly possible. I hope I get to hear from you all again and get your opinions on where you think this story is headed and what you think. Part of the reason this took as long as it did in the first place was because I was waiting for a little more feedback in general. So thank you for those that did leave your thoughts!

Thank you for reading! And please excuse any typos you might have seen.


	26. Chapter 26

It was getting on to be pretty late at night. It was so late, really, that it couldn't even really be considered ' _night_ ' anymore. It would probably be more accurate, then, to say that it was very early. Whatever way it was looked at, though, it still stood to reason that Hiro was exhausted. His eyes were stinging, they were so tired, and every so often, he would put his pencil down to reach up and wipe at them roughly. And about every other second, he would duck down and yawn into his elbow.

Despite the hour, and despite the fact that his bed was calling his name, Hiro kept at his desk, his pencil scrawling over the paper like it had been for the past hour and a half, now. He'd already written two pages now, front and back. He was well into the third one now, and he wasn't really in the mood to stop. He might as well not, anyway, considering the fact that Tadashi was still up, too. He was doing some homework still, even though he had started it directly after dinner. So their lights were still on in their room, and there was a mutual understanding between the two of them that it wasn't really an issue.

Mostly it had been silent, considering that both occupants in the room were busy with their own work. So, Hiro's wrist – aching a little bit with the demanding effort of writing so much – slowly came to a standstill as the sound of an irritated grumble met his ears. He blinked and set the pencil down, turning so that he could look over to the other side of the room. Sure enough, Tadashi was hunched over a little bit, drawing his hands through his hair and muttering underneath his breath. His stare was narrowed down into a harsh glare as he looked over the stack of papers in front of him.

"What's wrong?" Hiro's eyes flickered down to the papers, and he asked: "What homework are you doing? I thought you said that your classes didn't have much going on anymore."

"They don't," Tadashi agreed, his words coming in the form of nothing more than an exhale. He leaned over and picked up a packet, thumbing through it a little bit. Hiro noticed that the disgusted look on his face remained unchanged. "Honey Lemon gave me some of her notes from her first semester. She's trying to get me started, so I don't drown in my classes next semester." Hiro slouched a little bit, but since Tadashi was looking down, he didn't catch it. "But it's just…" There was a small pause, in which he struggled to grasp at a phrase that would properly cover it. He ended up with a lame: "It's like I'm reading Spanish."

"I don't know, I think Spanish might be easier," Hiro chirped. "At least with Spanish, some of the words are mostly the same. Like pants." He shifted his chair, so that he could turn and face Tadashi fully. "Or…supermarket. But between robotics and chemistry…you don't know your clothes from your grocery store." He waited for Tadashi to laugh or at least grin at the fact that he was trying to make a joke. So he felt a little disheartened when he didn't. Hiro pursed his lips for a moment, and contemplated a bit, before he decide that sympathy would probably be better. It's what he would want, if the roles were reversed. "Do you need any help?" he asked, glancing over at his computer. "Google doesn't have closing hours. Unless that changed recently."

"No. I gotta get it on my own," Tadashi huffed. "Otherwise there's no point. I just— I just have to read this all over again." He flipped back through the packet he was holding. Hiro's eyebrows rose a little bit at the number of pages that was there. It had to be at least ten or twelve. "If I read it enough, it'll start to make sense. And it can't be that hard— it's just…elements and molecules and stuff. I understand that, I just have to…I don't know." He sighed. "Read it again."

"How many times have you read it, though?" Hiro asked. "You've been sitting there since dinner."

"This'll be the eighth," Tadashi replied, his voice almost curt. He must have realized that Hiro eyed him in disbelief without even looking up, because he sighed a little bit and eyed the paper with a bit more irritation than before. "It's not like I have much of a choice, right?" he asked.

"You actually kind of do," Hiro replied, trying to keep his voice light and upbeat. "You _could_ just go to bed."

Tadashi looked up at him then, raising his eyebrows a little bit skeptically. He nodded his head towards the papers that were scattered around Hiro's desk. "So could you, you know," he quipped.

Hiro glanced back, awkwardness and discomfort settling over him briefly. He leaned over and shuffled the papers so that he could shove them down underneath one of the books that were stacked around him. He couldn't remember putting the book there— he must have put it there before he left so long ago. But it was doing a job now, at least. Half because he wanted to make a point, and half because he was just wanting to get the attention off of him, he asked: "Weren't…aren't you going to graduate soon, anyway?"

"I _was_ ," Tadashi replied. "Not anymore; not when I've got to start my major all over. I've got to take all new classes." He flipped through the pages a bit. Hiro watched as his brother made a face at what apparently was a rather confusing-looking diagram. "It doesn't matter, though," he said after a small pause. "Not when the college suddenly decides they want to pay me to take every class imaginable." He rolled his eyes— Hiro couldn't remember the last time that he saw Tadashi do that. And, with a sense of small discomfort, he was just now beginning to realize how stressed out and angry Tadashi was, by now. "They want to… _reimburse_ me, or something completely ridiculous like that, so _why not_?"

"You're tired," Hiro tried, a little weaker this time. "You should go to bed. Maybe you'll be a genius in chemistry when you wake up; you never know. And you're frustrated. You shouldn't keep bullying yourself to figure all of this out when you don't want to." He paused for a heartbeat, glancing over at his own papers, before he cleared his throat and winced a little bit. "And maybe…you know, maybe you should think a little bit more about changing your major. Maybe it's not such a good idea."

Tadashi sighed through his nose, heavily enough that Hiro could hear from across the room. Hiro braced himself for anger from his older brother. It was the most likely outcome, given the situation. However, when his brother did reply, his voice was nothing more than a small exhale. "It's just what I want to do," he said, the words flat and almost dead. It made Hiro freeze a little bit, and a little bit of sorrow to cloud over his gaze. Tadashi didn't look up, but he must have sensed the change, regardless. "I'll be much happier with chemistry."

Hiro hesitated for a long heartbeat. After a second, he cleared his throat and closed one eye in a small grimace. All the same, flinching a tiny bit, he attempted a lame: "But…so far it doesn't really seem like there's much… _chemistry_ between you and this subject."

Tadashi looked back up at him blandly. Though his expression was a deadpan, Hiro brightened just a little bit at the small glimmer of amusement that was hiding in the back of his eyes. Even so, he said a flat: "Hiro, that's not funny."

Hiro raised his eyebrows. He tilted his head towards his bed. " _Nozomi_ thought it was funny," he stated, glancing over to see that the dog's head immediately shot up at the sound of her name. Her ears perked as well, and she turned to look at Hiro with brightly-lit eyes. A smile split over Hiro's face, and it only increased once she turned and shuffled off of the bed. She hopped over to him and got up on her hind legs so that she could put her head own on his knee. It looked like she was smiling a big toothy grin, she was so happy. So, moving one hand to pet her gently, he threw a sophisticated look over at his brother. "She understands comedy better than you do."

Tadashi's eyes softened a bit. Nozomi had only been here for a few days but, unsurprisingly, everyone already loved her. She got under people's feet, and she barked whenever someone new came into the room, and Hiro was already establishing a bad habit of sneaking her some pieces of food when nobody was looking. Taking all of that into consideration, it was _still_ little wonder that there was a new soft spot in the house. It was an automatic sort of thing, really.

Even so, Tadashi shook his head and looked back down. "Well, good for her," he hummed. "I'm sure she'll be fun at parties."

Hiro smiled, though the gesture didn't exactly reach his eyes, now. He glanced down at Nozomi, his shoulders slumping just a bit when he watched her settle down to curl comfortably at the foot of his chair. She tucked tightly into herself, ducking her nose down underneath her paw like she always did. Subtly, her tail wagged from side to side in a sign of contentment. Against himself, Hiro felt a confusing sort of jealousy, looking at her. Not because he was not happy to have her back at his side— certainly, it wasn't that. It was because, despite everything, Nozomi just looked and acted like any normal dog. She seemed completely unaffected by everything that had happened. Yet here everyone else was, struggling to pick up the broken pieces of…well, everything.

Hiro would give his _entire_ right arm to be able to be as aloof as Nozomi seemed. As adjustable.

Here he was now, feeling envious of a dog.

He closed one eye in a small grimace, clearing his throat a bit before he pushed himself to speak up again. His voice was slower now; he was obviously choosing his words with care and hesitation. "You know…you shouldn't…feel like it's something you _have_ to do," he murmured. Though he didn't look up at his brother, he could feel his stare come back up to rest on him. He just kept looking down at Nozomi. "Changing your major, I mean. Because…you _loved_ robotics. I'm pretty sure you still do." Now he did look up, somehow mustering up the courage to look at him in the face. Though the younger's expression was clenched a bit in awkwardness and reluctance. "I've seen the way you look when you talked about Baymax," he pressed. "And...you look pretty miserable when you talk about chemistry. Or even think about it."

"It'll just take some work," Tadashi argued, though there didn't seem to be much in his voice. "I just want to—"

"Do you, though?" Hiro cut him off quietly. Tadashi didn't exactly lock eyes with him; he more looked off to the side, noticeably locking his jaw backwards a bit. A touch of guilt came over Hiro with his brother's discomfort, but he couldn't stop or falter now. "Tadashi…I know that…you don't know what to do. I didn't either— I still don't. But…just because of something that happened with me…you shouldn't let that take away something you really loved. That you _still_ love."

Tadashi immediately snapped to attention with this. And when he spoke, Hiro realized that it wasn't because of the reason Hiro thought he had. "Because of ' _something that happened_ ' to you?" he echoed. Hiro didn't move, just blinking a few times. He started to open his mouth to say something, but he ended up biting it back. Tadashi went on when it was clear Hiro would not. "Hiro, the man that inspired me to have an interest in robotics, the man that acted as my _motivation_ to even _do well_ or _work hard_ in this field…he…" His throat seemed to swell just a little bit; his words seemed to get thicker. "He _hurt_ you, he nearly— Hiro, he nearly _killed_ you." He ended hardly above a whisper.

Hiro glanced down at Nozomi. She had been dozing a bit, but when she became aware of his gaze, she perked her ears. As if to ask: 'What now?' Hiro shook his head and reached up to rub at his forehead. "You think I don't know that?" he asked, trying to make his voice light, so he could therefore make light of the situation. But it was a rather hard situation to make light of; he would be the first to admit that much. "I know that more than anyone, Tadashi, but the point is, you can't let that ruin something you really wanted to do with your life! I mean, look at Baymax! He's _amazing_ , Tadashi! And you can't just get rid of all of that! Not when you were going so great!"

Tadashi was getting closer and closer to angry the further Hiro went. It was a hard fact to overlook. "Hiro, you have no idea what you're talking about," he said, thinner. "Every day I go into that classroom, and everyone is staring at me. I sit down there and I feel like I _don't belong_ anymore. I look at assignments we do, and I look at chapters we read, and I feel _horrible_ for _enjoying_ it! Don't you _see_!?" Tadashi turned, shoving the packets of chemistry work away, hard enough to cause all of them to tumble to the ground in a mess. Hiro flinched, but Tadashi took no heed. " _Of course_ I don't want to do this stupid chemistry stuff! It's awful, I hate it! I want to go back, but I _can't_! Because I _shouldn't be able to_!" He broke off, biting down hard on his lower lip. He gave a hard shake of the head, and his next words came out in nothing more than a grumble. "I shouldn't be able to go back. Like nothing happened."

There was a heavy pause. It felt like a million bricks piled up on each other, and throughout it, Hiro could only stare at his brother. It took him a long time to gather up a response, and when he did, he winced down with discomfort at the floor. "You don't have to feel guilty for liking it," he said, dealing with each word as if it was glass. "I'm _glad_ that you like it. It's such a _relief_." Tadashi looked at him dismally, confused at the same time. He gave a small shake of the head. "He's taken so much," Hiro pointed out. "He's ruined so much, and he's _done_ so much. He shouldn't be able to take something like that away from you, too." He looked up at Tadashi, raising his eyebrows just a little bit. "Don't you think?"

Tadashi was blank for a moment. Unsure of what to say. Eventually he weakened, his voice cracking in on itself. "But…it's not fair. Is it?" he dared to ask. "That…I just keep going on as normal? Pretending that nothing like that happened? That it doesn't _bother_ me?" He paused, taking in a quick breath. "I _love_ robotics…and I love… _applying_ it. But…I don't know if I can anymore. Or…I don't know if I _should_."

Hiro digested the issue. But it was easy to do. Because it was a familiar problem. "I think…you _should_ do…what _makes_ you happy," he pressed. "I don't think you should care about anything else. I think…I think that's what we all need to start doing." He looked earnestly at his older brother. The two were finally meeting one another's gaze. "I think we need to stop…dodging it all. Dancing around it. And we need to start recovering." He paused. He could feel his lower lip tremble and shake just a little bit, and he tried to speak louder, in order to cover this fact up. "Because I think it's about time we got our lives back. And I'm tired of just suffering through the aftermath, never really knowing when it's going to end. Because I _want_ it to end. And I know you do, too."

Tadashi wilted. However, he couldn't very well move to argue against him. Though he did turn and look from his brother, to the pile of papers now on the floor. As if he was exhausted, he closed his eyes and let out a slow sigh. "I wish…I could be as strong as you," he confessed in a breathy exhale. Hiro jerked, a little bit caught off-guard at the sudden change. "I wish I could be as strong as you're being…and be able to… _live_ with this, the way you are. Live with _all_ of it." He looked at Hiro as if he had never seen him before. As if they were strangers, just passing by each other in the thick of some dark trail. "These days, I get to forgetting that I'm the older one."

Hiro offered him a smile. Though it was bracing, and strong, there was a certain degree of sorrow there as well, hidden in the small lift of his lips. He shook his head again. "Thank you," he mumbled reluctantly. But the sad smile remained, and, after gnawing down on his lower lip, Hiro shook his head a second time. "But…I don't want to be strong for living with it," he objected.

Tadashi's eyebrows pulled together in concern. Hiro gave out a small shrug of the shoulders. "I think…I would rather be strong…for being able to _let_ go of it."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his expression darkened and a little bit disappointed as he stared at himself. He stood in silence, like he had been for the past ten minutes now. He wasn't planning on moving, or doing anything else. He didn't really have anything else on his plate, and once this detail reached out to smack him in the face, it gathered the rest of his attention fully. However, his focus was shifted eventually, at the sound footsteps heading his way.

Sure enough, when he turned to look over his shoulder towards the door, Cass was standing in the doorway. She looked a tad nervous as she surveyed him, and Hiro felt a rush of awkwardness at the idea of what this might seem. Predictably, her voice was laced with reluctance when she took the initiative to speak. "What are you doing, honey?" she asked. A tad weak.

"Oh, I was just…" Hiro glanced back at the mirror, bemused for a second. His mind was spluttering awkwardly, and he cleared his throat before turning back to her with an aimless grin. "I thought you were down at the café!" he said. "Isn't it busy today?"

She wasn't deterred by the effort of her nephew, though. If anything, her worry just seemed to spike. "Yeah, it is, but I came up to check on you and make sure you were alright." She hesitated, taking to gnawing own on her lower lip, like she always did whenever she got nervous, or fearful. Then she tilted her head to the side. " _Are_ you alright? You…you're worrying me, a little bit. Is everything fine?"

"Oh, yeah, it's—" He glanced back at the mirror a second, giving a small sigh through his nose as he did. His voice was a tad weaker when he went on. And, a little self-consciously, he reached back to rub at his neck. "I was just…" He gestured to his hair. "All the color's run out of it already. It's not there anymore." He looked back at his reflection with noticeable distaste. His hair wasn't nearly as short as it had been when he had been back at Callaghan's, of course. But it didn't matter so much. Abigail's hair grew out eventually too, he had seen photos of it.

He knew that it might be irrational. He told himself that it was, anyway. But at the same time, seeing himself was like looking down at a photo of _her_. It was unnerving, and it didn't help with…well, anything. He couldn't hide the fact, either; it was as plain as the nose on his face. So the fact that Aunt Cass was looking at him with such deep concern was not totally unfounded. He knew what it must look like. He tried to make a bit lighter of it, with a small shrug. "I was just…it didn't look all that great, but I was just hoping it would stay in for a little bit longer…"

"Well, we could dye it again!" Aunt Cass offered quickly, taking a few steps closer and eliminating the distance in between them. She reached over and threaded a hand through his hair lovingly, tucking some back behind his ear in the process. Her gaze was tender when she searched his own. "Your hair's pretty dark, it's no wonder it all ran out," she offered. "But if you want to put more color in it, we definitely can!" Hiro grinned, a little embarrassed at such a reassurance. "How about I close the café early tonight? And we can go down to the store and—"

"Aunt Cass? I'm home!" The two of them both turned at the call, recognizing Tadashi's voice instantly. Hiro had no idea what time it was, but apparently it was after noon, for his older brother to be able to be back from school already. Aunt Cass glanced back at Hiro, before offering him a smile and leaving the bathroom. Hiro, looking in the mirror with one last lingering stare, followed suit and did the same. Sure enough, Tadashi was just setting his bag down at the top of the stairs, and he turned to smile as they entered the living room. "You weren't downstairs," he pointed out to his aunt, turning to pick his way closer. He was holding something in his hand— a slip of paper, it looked like. "People are getting pretty rowdy down there."

"They'll have to wait," their aunt quipped, entirely unbothered. She leaned over and offered him a quick peck on the cheek— adopting the new habit of constantly showering the both of them with affection whenever she could. Though it was far from irritating, for the both of the brothers. "What have you got there?" she asked, her eyes catching on the paper a little bit later than Hiro's had.

Tadashi smiled, looking down at the thing he was holding as his eyes flashed a little bit. He cleared his throat, and hesitated before extending his arm, to offer it to her. Hiro watched as, puzzled, Aunt Cass took the thing and moved so that she could see its front. Immediately, her eyes got to be about ten times their normal size, and her breath was very audibly taken away from her. The expression that came over her face was one of complete shock and confusion.

"I went to the financial aid office today," Tadashi announced softly. "And…I got it all straightened out. There's not going to be any more payments for school. And...they said that they'll pay us back, too. That's…the first check."

"The _first_?" she echoed, stricken.

Tadashi grinned. "Yup."

Hiro felt a small touch of relief at the look that was on her face. He didn't know how much the medical bills they had were. But he did know that he spent a long time in the hospital. The gratefulness that was plastered over Aunt Cass' face, and the smile that was growing there, was a small assurance that maybe that wasn't as much of an issue anymore. Or it would be a little bit better, at the very least. Hiro looked over at Tadashi, turning to clasp his hands behind his back. "That's awesome," he managed. "Gives you as much time as you want to get all that chemistry under your belt."

"Yeah," Tadashi agreed, though Hiro was acutely aware of the way his voice fell a tad flat. He looked over at his younger brother, his gaze a bit withdrawn as he offered him a subtle grin. Hiro returned the smile, wholeheartedly though. He started to open his mouth to say something, but Tadashi turned back to look at Cass before he could. "I'm serious, though, Aunt Cass, people asked me where you were on my way up. I told them I'd get you." Cass looked up from the check, her expression almost dazed. But she quickly snapped to attention by the time Tadashi was going on. "I can come down and help you before too long, I just have to get something started on my computer. We have a new project in robotics."

Hiro grinned a bit more.

Cass nodded quickly. "Yeah, yeah, sure, honey!" She turned and deposited the check down on the kitchen counter. Hiro entertained the idea of glancing at the amount, but decided he probably shouldn't. "Thank you, Tadashi," Aunt Cass added as she made for the stairs again. "It totally slipped my mind I've got a café to run! Hopefully Mrs. Matsuda hasn't swiped all my cinnamon rolls while I was gone!" She took the steps two at a time, and eventually, it was only the two of them left in the den.

Hiro cleared his throat a little bit, glancing down at his feet. "A new project?" he asked after a second.

"Yeah," Tadashi replied. "For once we actually got our noses out of our textbooks. So I've got to start downloading this program so I can start working on it. But it's not due for a few weeks yet. I just…thought I'd get a head start." Hiro simply nodded, finding that there wasn't much more he could say. Thankfully enough, Tadashi seemed to grasp a little bit of his mood. He flashed him a small, rather reluctant, smile. "And…I figured…you know, maybe you had a point. A while ago. Or…at the very least…I don't think chemistry if the right road for me. Maybe…I wasn't thinking clearly. Before. I dunno. I'm still…I'm still kind of on the fence."

Hiro paused and contemplated the words for a moment. His expression flickered over dark for a heartbeat, before he closed one eye in something akin to wince. "You know…there's got to be a line. I think. At least…in my opinion." He looked up from his feet now, and he saw that Tadashi was staring expectantly his way. "Because…he's…he's taken a _lot_. You know?" he rasped. There was pain written in his face now, and he watched as Tadashi's own expression began to crumble a crack. Hiro offered a small shrug, which came off as lame, even to him. "He's taken so much from us. From _all_ of us. You shouldn't let him take this away from you too." He paused for a heartbeat before he mumbled: "There should be a stopping point. Shouldn't there?"

Tadashi was the one to glance down at the floor, now. His stare seemed to weigh about a million pounds. "I guess so," he relented, after a stretch of time. "It's…it's just hard." He shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head before he backtracked. "And I know it's not fair for me to tell you that. And I know that…that maybe me making a whole fuss about this college thing was insulting to you." Hiro frowned, tilting his head to the side. "I just…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that, but…it's just a lot. To handle. Even if it's not nearly as much as you."

"I wasn't thinking that at all," Hiro replied. "It's not a competition, Tadashi. It's just…" He smiled, a little wryly. "A mess."

"Yeah," Tadashi sighed. "It is. Just…a huge mess."

Hiro's smile turned a bit more genuine now. Though there was a sense of sorrow thinly veiled behind it. "I think you should stick where you are," he said. "But it's not my decision. It's yours, you know? Ultimately, you're going to choose what to do, and I'm not going to sit here and try and tell you otherwise." He brightened. "It's _your_ life. _Just_ yours. So. Go ahead and do what you want with it."

The words hung in the air between them a little bit. Hiro tried not to notice how much his brother seemed to swell with pride at them, either. He practically lit up at the assertion, really. "Yeah," the elder of the two said, his voice noticeably just as perked. He smiled and reached back to rub at the back of his neck. In a roundabout reply, in a roundabout agreement, he offered a small: "I'd better go up and get started on my project. Do you need anything? Before I do?"

He hesitated for a moment, and subconsciously, a hand strayed up to run through his hair. But despite the small sting of frustration, he drafted a smile up onto his face, and a small shake of the head. "Nope," he replied. "I'm fine. I don't…need anything right now. Anything more, at least." Tadashi smiled back at him and turned, heading for the stairs. Hiro stood still and watched him go, his hands clasped together tightly in front of him. Watching him walk away, and glancing over at the check that was still resting on the counter, he felt the smallest sense of happiness, and relief.

Though he would be lying if he said that part of the reason he felt such a way was also thanks to the fact that, for once, when he assured someone that he was fine, it wasn't a total lie.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"You're going to give her a heart attack, and then what are we supposed to do?" Tadashi asked.

"She won't have a heart attack," Hiro objected. He reached his arm back and jerked it forward again. By this point, his arm was burning with its overuse. "At the most, she'll pass out and not wake up for the next twenty-four hours, and if that's the case, then we'll all have a break for once." He watched as Nozomi, in a flurry of barks, turned and scrambled up the steps for the fiftieth time this morning, chasing after the ball that Hiro chucked up to their room. Despite the fact that she should have been well worn out by this point, she rushed back down just as fast, her tail wagging a million miles an hour as she skidded to a stop in front of Hiro. She dropped her ball down to him and sat down, her eyes bright and expectant as she waited for him to throw it again.

Tadashi scoffed, looking up from his textbook to eye the dog with a grin. "She's like the Energizer bunny," he laughed.

Hiro leaned over, ignoring the tennis ball this time and bundling up Nozomi instead. He tugged her close to his chest, ignoring the way she wriggled and thrashed as he hugged her tight. "She's just excited. And she likes playing. Don't judge her." But at the same time, when she just tried to scramble for her toy, he only hugged her tighter, his expression souring a little as he growled: "No, let me love you." She finally stopped, huffing a little bit as she just sat down in his lap. It immediately made him grin, and he softened as he planted a small kiss on her head. "Good. Don't be rude."

"She's gonna run away from you again," Tadashi sang, turning back to his work.

"She can _try_ ," Hiro quipped. "But she would make Mochi sad, and he's her best buddy."

Tadashi turned, scribbling down some notes before he continued to read. He rolled his eyes. "Mochi scratched her _just_ this morning, Hiro."

"Because she was _trying_ to give him kisses!" he yelped. " _Tell me_ that isn't true love. _Tell_ me."

"Pretty one-sided," Tadashi replied. "I don't think Mochi would—"

The conversation, however thrilling and interesting it was, got cut off with a sudden entrance. The two of them turned immediately at a rushing set of footsteps. Sure enough, from the café, Aunt Cass burst into the room, looking frazzled and caught up in something. Neither of them had the chance to say anything before she took off. "Are you guys busy?" Even as she asked the question, she turned and looked at Tadashi, and the book he was holding. And her expression was just as torn when she glanced at Hiro, regardless of the fact he was just holding Nozomi.

Tadashi put down his textbook. "I can work on this later," he offered. "Why?"

She winced a bit and drew a hand through her hair. "It's packed downstairs," she started, already sounding tired. "And I just remembered that I was supposed to send out a thank-you package this morning. The post office is set to close soon, I…" There was guilt on her face as she hesitated and looked from one her nephews, to the other. Her voice was a tad weaker when she dared to ask: "Do you think you could handle the café for a little while?"

Hiro blinked and looked down at Nozomi. Tadashi replied quicker than he did. "Yeah, of course. I can finish this later, it's no big deal." He set aside his things, standing up from the couch. Only then did he seem to pick up on Aunt Cass' hesitance. Or rather, the reason for it. He glanced from her to Hiro, a sense of tension suddenly springing up into his gaze. "Oh…er— you don't have to come, Hiro," he offered, rather awkwardly. It immediately caused the younger to slouch a bit. "I can handle it by myself. It won't take long, you know?"

"No, no, it's…" Hiro shook his head. He shuffled Nozomi off of his lap and pushed up from the ground to stand. "No, I want to help. It's alright. I can totally help, it'll be fun. I haven't helped out down there in ages."

Aunt Cass seemed unsure by the almost-too-happy reaction. She seemed a tad unsure. Her eyebrows knitted together a bit as she opened her mouth to say something. Tadashi was quick to beat her to it, though. He wasn't too keen on letting her continue on, and beat Hiro down for something that was certainly a step in the right direction. So he leaned over quickly, grabbing Hiro and pulling him close, so that he could ruffle his hair. "As long as you actually _work_ ," he chuckled. "You never liked working down there in the first place. I'd _always_ have to cover your shifts!"

Hiro laughed, wriggling out of Tadashi's arms and shoving him away. "I'll work _circles_ around you!" he swore, his eyes lighting up with a bit of his old competitive flair. However, in the back of his gaze there also seemed to be the smallest bit of reluctance as well. Though it was not unnoticed by Tadashi, it was certainly not called out. Rather Tadashi's gaze just got a touch softer, as well as his smile.

Cass cleared her throat, seeming a little torn as well. But she quickly realized that the sooner she left, the sooner she would get back. So, rushing to the kitchen and fetching her purse and the small package that had been sitting there since this morning, she went to her nephews and kissed them both on the cheeks. "I'll be back soon, you won't have to work long," she promised. Predictably, then, she lingered over Hiro a bit longer than Tadashi. Unable to stop herself, she added a small: "And if you don't want to work for very long…don't feel like you have to."

He offered her a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. He didn't say anything in reply, he just watched Aunt Cass turn and make her way downstairs. The two of them stood alone in the living room for a split second, in silence that was a little stiff. But then Tadashi brightened, and he started down the steps first, leading the way down. Hiro hesitated only briefly before he cleared his throat and followed.

As he walked after his older brother, a small grimace came over his face at the small limp that hindered his gait. Despite the fact that his leg didn't ache nearly as much anymore, his compromised walking stayed. It was at the point where it was not needed to be pointed out that the limp would remain. After his leg had been so injured for so long, it shouldn't be surprising to think that there would be long-lasting repercussions. But still, every time Hiro had to walk, he was reminded with a small stab in his chest of the fact that he was altered. Changed. Different.

Waiting at the foot of the steps, Tadashi must have caught on to what Hiro was thinking— his expression was a little bit deflated, and weakened. Catching it, Hiro forced himself to brighten and smile. He'd been getting better at doing just that. Thankfully, Tadashi followed suit, understanding that it would be the easiest thing to do. He stuffed his hands down into his pockets, glancing over his shoulder, down towards the dining area. "I'll take the tables," he offered. "You can just stay at the register and handle that, if you want." There was less walking around involved in that particular job, and, if Hiro wished it, there was much less socializing.

So Hiro took the job immediately, not even allowing the smallest of pauses to think it over. He was starting to believe that it really wouldn't be as bad as he was privately dreading. It was a little bit of a habit nowadays, though he was getting better at coping, that his nerves were a little bit shot, and easily sparked with apprehension. However, once he and his brother emerged into the main floor, and he saw how many people were there, and once he heard the dull roar of conversation, he couldn't stop himself from stiffening up just a little bit. Aunt Cass hadn't been joking; it _was_ packed in here. There seemed to be way too many people, and way too much conversation.

Had it always been this crowded? This cramped? He felt like he was suffocating already.

Tadashi glanced at him a little wearily. "You okay?" he asked. "You can go back upstairs if you want to."

The offer brought a little bit of sting to Hiro. A little stupidly, because he knew that Tadashi was just trying to help. Nevertheless, he drew himself up just a little bit and turned, already starting to pick his way over to the register. "There's a table in the corner you need to clear," he said instead, throwing the direction over his shoulder as he went. He didn't check to see if Tadashi was offended by the short goodbye. He wasn't really sure what he would have done if it turned out he was. He just weaved through the crowd of people, trying not to pay attention to anything but his steps, in the effort not to notice if people were looking at him oddly.

He went around the counter and took up his usual spot behind the register. Usually he'd liked this job best. It was the easiest job to daydream while you did it, and all it was was simple math and numbers. Whenever he'd have the pick of what job to do, and usually he did since Tadashi didn't mind, he would pick this one. So when he took up the station behind the machine, he looked down at it, beginning to smile. Sure enough, this didn't change, either. There was still the straw holder up on the counter near him, and the same photo directly over and behind his head— of some flowers that Aunt Cass had been so ecstatic to find at some outlet store.

The first couple of people to go through the register didn't seem to care all that much about his being there. Either they were living under a rock, or they were just more concerned about their bagel than what he was up to. But that was completely fine by Hiro. They exchanged a few polite words of conversation, like asking each other how their day was going. But it was that type of conversation where it was clear both participating parties were clearly just wanting it to be over, and they weren't even listening. Mostly they were just interested in exchanging the money, so that the customer could get out.

It went like that for a while, and Hiro was actually starting to find some enjoyment in it. Maybe not so much enjoyment such as it was the relief to be doing something other than sitting and staring off into the distance. He'd really been running out of things to do to distract himself. It hadn't really occurred to him to come down here, mostly because that was where the windows were, and there was still a couple reporters around every day asking about him. He'd rather avoid that as much as he could. But for the most part, it was going pretty well so far.

Finally, after the first wave of people, Hiro found himself looking a familiar face. The others he hadn't recollected; it wasn't a fluke, considering the fact that they didn't really care to see him either. But as soon as the pang of recollection hit him, he saw the woman's face light up and glow. She was even looking at the miniature cakes, which Hiro remembered were always her favorite to purchase. "Hiro!" Mrs. Matsuda cried, her eyes immediately lighting up at the sight of the boy. As she rushed forward, Hiro dimly realized that he hadn't seen her at all since he'd come back. It wasn't that they were _friends_ , by any means. But they were acquaintances; they liked to talk to one another when she came by the café. "I was _wondering_ when I would see you, my dear!"

He smiled, a genuine grin. "Hey, Mrs. Matsuda," he called. "How've you been?"

"Oh, I've been just fine!" she said, disregarding her cake now as she just went up to the counter. Her eyes were alight with that concern that seemed to be in everyone's faces, now. "But you…are you alright?" She looked him over, as if she was searching for some kind of deadly wound that was, at the moment, invisible. "When I heard the news I was so devastated…I remember how nice you had been. So small and sweet, and I just knew that I had to try and help…" Hiro started to grow uncomfortable. He ducked his head and little bit, and rubbed at his forehead. "I went out with some of the search parties through the city trying to catch a glimpse of you. I couldn't go very far, or for very long, of course. But…you know, I had to try."

Hiro was actually a little touched by this. Mrs. Matsuda was _eighty_ ; she wasn't young or active in any sense of the word. To picture her going out and scaling at least a section of this huge city brought a little bit of a lump to his throat, if he was being perfectly honest. He sat up again, dropping his arm. He was starting to thank his lucky stars that he'd remembered to put his jacket on this morning. If Mrs. Matsuda – or anyone, really, for that matter – saw the state of his arm, they'd probably all lose their appetite. The thought came, and he lost a little bit of his smile. But he looked at her brightly nonetheless. "Well…thanks, Mrs. Matsuda. I…I appreciate it. You didn't have to…go to all that trouble."

"I'm just glad you're safe, honey," she said, gentler this time. "I was very worried— always checking the papers or the news to see whether or not you were found. And every time I would come here…your poor brother and your aunt— they were always so upset. Like ghosts of who they used to be." At his disheartened expression, she shook her head and smiled. "But Cass is so much livelier now; she's ecstatic! And your brother has been bouncing through here just like the old days. I'm very glad to see that, too."

"Yeah…I am too," he offered with a small laugh. "It's nice to be…to be home." He glanced to the side, to see that from one of the middle tables, Tadashi had stopped short and was looking over in their direction. Awkwardly the pair made eye contact for a heartbeat before Hiro ducked away, grimacing and clearing his throat a bit. "Uh, can I get you something, Mrs. Matsuda?" he asked instead. "Is there…do you want one of those down there?" He pointed down towards the row of mini cakes she had been eyeing before.

She perked, as if she'd forgotten all about it. "Oh!" she gasped, straightening. "Yes, I would love one, dear. My granddaughter is coming over later, and I wanted to surprise her with a little cake. I missed her birthday the other day, you know." Hiro was nodding as he went over to fetch the thing for her. This was more normal— it felt right. To have her prattling on in his ear so much that he half-started to tune her out. It was like how things always used to be. It felt familiar— a little annoying and drawn-out, but in the best way possible.

Hiro got the cake she wanted and rung her up. He docked off two dollars, like he always used to do for her whenever Aunt Cass wasn't looking. The simple act caused Mrs. Matsuda's eyes to light up and swell with happiness and nostalgia. She drew Hiro up into a hug, despite the awkwardness that was the counter in between them. Hiro grinned as he watched her go. He looked down to fiddle with the register, just for something to do. He tried to ignore how pleased he felt, and how his smile seemed to grow and soften after the quick hug.

Mrs. Matsuda was sweet. Hiro hadn't thought about her too much, but he'd missed her too.

The thought was running through his mind, and it was causing him to be a little bit distracted. So when he heard another voice, calling for his attention, he blinked rapidly, nearly jerking in surprise. He looked up from the counter, his eyes a little wide when he looked up at the person in front of him. He didn't recognize them. It was a woman with two braids in her hair; she was leaning towards him a little bit, her gaze expectant. It took Hiro a stuttering minute to clear his throat and try to recollect himself. "I'm…I'm sorry, are you…did you say something? What can I get for you?" He looked over at the glass case, a little lost. But mostly just embarrassed he'd been caught ignoring a customer.

But what they gave him wasn't an order. It wasn't even a request for something lame, like a napkin or a straw. What Hiro got, instead, was a befuddling: "Are you going to speak?"

He blinked a few times. Looked down at the register in front of him, as if he could find some sort of answer there. "Am I…?" His forehead creased a little bit. He looked back up, clearly confused. "I am speaking, I thought," he said stupidly, after a second.

The woman looked at him intently. Still, there was that same curious smile on her face. "Are you going to speak?" she repeated, stressing the words, now. When Hiro just stared at her oddly, she actually elaborated. Though he almost wished she hadn't. "At the trial? Are you going to speak?"

His mouth ran a little dry. Slowly, he looked back down at the cash register. "Uh…I don't…" He winced just a little bit and coughed in the back of his throat. "I don't…can I get you anything? Like…a muffin? We have tea." He was obviously just hinting to her, in a roundabout way, to please leave him alone. Already, his hands were beginning to knit tightly in his lap. His stomach was cramping in nervousness and tension. This was why he hadn't offered to help out down here before now, despite the fact he'd never really had anything else to do.

The woman just leaned forward a bit more. Her eyes were practically stabbing through him. "The final date is coming up soon; you're running out of time. Unless, you don't plan on coming at all." Before Hiro could offer anything in response, she was pressing on. "And if you _don't_ plan on coming, what are you _hoping_ for, as a verdict?" Hiro looked away, pointedly over to the tray of cupcakes a ways down the counter. She didn't seem to mind, though. "Have you been keeping up with the case at all? Have you been watching the news? Or can you not stomach it?"

Hiro drew a hand through his hair. He tried not to notice that it shook just a little bit as he sighed. "I haven't been— no, not really. I haven't…I can't—" He breathed out a little sharply. He looked back at her with a harder kind of expression. Or at least an expression he was hoping looked harder. "I'm just trying to work," he stated. "Do you want something or not? Because if you don't…you've just got to get out. You can't just…loiter." Was that what she was doing? What was loitering, again? He couldn't remember.

"Can I ask you a couple questions?" she all but pleaded. Hiro grimaced, pressing his hands against his forehead now as he was already shaking his head. "If you had a say on what would happen to Robert Callaghan, what would—?"

"I said _get out_!" Hiro yelled suddenly, his eyes snapping open again as his hands went down to the counter. The woman was obviously taken by surprise as she jerked backwards. But so was the rest of the café. Every customer gathered there looked up and roused from their own business, looking over to the pair instantly. Most were confused, but some seemed sympathetic or even angry. Those that knew and could make the connection.

Of those people were Tadashi, who looked up from the plates he was stacking together. At first, he was puzzled just like the rest of them. But then he sharpened, and as the dots connected, a deep sense of something akin to fury crowded his expression. He turned and all but shoved the plates back down onto the table. He turned and paced back towards the register. Hiro started to try and save face, to speak up for himself and snap at her to leave a second time. But he just stared at her bleakly. And he just listened when Tadashi stormed up and immediately interjected himself in between him and the woman. The statement he got out was curt and enraged. "Get out."

The woman did a double-take. Her expression caved a little in uncertainty, and she stuttered out a small: "I-If you'll just let me…"

"No. I won't." Tadashi's voice was cold and flat. Hiro wasn't sure he'd ever heard him sound this way before. "Get out. Now. Go bother someone else."

She glanced between the two of them. Hiro was wilted and deflated now. He didn't quite meet her eyes anymore. Realizing she was under the gaze of everyone here now, and the atmosphere was thick with hostility and tension, she gave a small nod. The woman turned, without even giving her name, and headed quickly for the door. Tadashi didn't turn around until the door slammed shut behind her, and the conversation between customers slowly began to revive and quicken again. He turned, his expression pained now as he looked back at Hiro, and the expression that was on his little brother's face. "You okay?" he asked. Hiro tried not to notice just how gentle he sounded. "What did she ask you?"

Hiro blinked a few times again. He grimaced and coughed again, for the lack of anything else to do. He turned and pushed himself away from the register. Tried to ignore how he stumbled just a little bit with his leg. "I'm…I…" He breathed out fast again. He shook his head and moved so that he could cross his arms tight over his chest. "I'm going to go upstairs," he rasped. "I just…I don't think I'm good. Down here." He glanced over towards the windows, his stomach clenching just a bit at the sight of the people milling around there. How many of them were reporters, too?

Tadashi weakened. "Hiro, you don't—"

"I just want to leave," he said, blunt now. "I'm just…going upstairs." He met Tadashi's eyes briefly, making sure that the desire was understood to be more of a beg. Tadashi seemed to grasp it eventually. He stayed silent, and just nodded once. Hiro didn't need to be told twice, and he just turned, hunching over a little bit as he turned and went for the stairs. He could feel everyone staring at him. He could feel the way that they were _thinking_ about him, even. It caused him to, despite the limp, rush even faster for the steps. He just wanted to get upstairs and escape the attention of everyone. Escape the bakery that somehow seemed much too crowded.

He wanted to escape the question that was ringing in his ears.

 _Are you going to speak?_

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Hiro sat at his desk, tapping his pencil dully against the wood. He was propping his head up on one hand, and, blankly, he stared at the paper in front of him. There was no attention in his eyes though. He was just blank as he surveyed the writing that was there. He was completely unmoving. He'd been sitting here for going on thirty minutes after he finished writing. He seemed to have reached a point where he wasn't sure where he was supposed to go from here.

Footsteps came up the stairs, getting closer, and Hiro closed his eyes wearily. He was already braced for the hesitant, sad little way Tadashi called out his small: "Hiro?" He sighed a little bit, but turned nevertheless, turning his chair towards the steps. Sure enough, his older brother was lingering in the landing, looking nervous. It had been hours since the scene in the café. Likely, he'd either stayed down to help Aunt Cass for the rest of the night, or he had just been wondering how he was supposed to approach the conversation.

Hiro wondered if she knew, too. If she'd be up here soon enough.

Tadashi shifted his weight a bit from foot to foot. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Hiro stared at him for a moment. Then he turned and looked back down at the papers in front of him. There were about ten, probably. It'd gotten out of hand. When he replied, his voice was soft and hollow. "No," he mumbled. "…Not really."

Tadashi glanced down at the ground. His hands curled and uncurled at his sides. "Can I…help?" he asked after a small pause. "Can I do anything for you?"

He considered it for a second. Absently, he began to drum his pencil against the desk again. His forehead creased, and his eyebrows drew together. For a while, it seemed as though he'd ignore the question entirely. But eventually he did speak up, though he kept his gaze down. The reply was unexpected in the first place, but the content of it caused Tadashi to straighten in even deeper surprise. "Actually, yeah, I think there is," he said. He turned, looking back over at his brother. His expression was slightly awkward. "Can you take me somewhere?"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

They walked in silence. It was usually what people did in places like this. There wasn't much they could say to each other that hadn't already been said, or wasn't already mutually understood. They just walked side-by-side, Tadashi walking a bit slower than he normally did to help compensate for Hiro's small limp. They hadn't told Aunt Cass where they were going, and they hadn't brought Nozomi along. They'd gone by themselves. Initially, Tadashi had even offered to stay in the car. But Hiro knew that he wouldn't be able to do this without him there with him.

He'd googled where it was. By this point, when he typed the question into Google, it pretty much popped up in the first link provided. It wasn't private information; not anymore. Someplace probably nobody save for three people bothered to remember beforehand, was now on the top result of a search engine. Somehow, it made Hiro feel guilty and sick; guiltier and sicker than he'd already felt doing this in the first place. He tried to distract himself as they walked, just trying to keep his chin up as they maneuvered through the grass.

Eventually though, they came to a stop. Tadashi did first, and Hiro found himself taking just a few more steps closer, before he halted as well. His stare was already heavy, but it was nothing compared to the feeling in his chest. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel when he saw it. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to feeling anything, really. He felt a little empty. Maybe that was all he was supposed to feel. Maybe that was all that made sense. All he knew was that it was weird. To be standing in front of the reason he had been taken away in the first place.

To be standing in front of the smooth stone labelled: 'Abigail Callaghan.'

He sighed uneasily through his nose. He glanced down at the grass underneath him, feeling a little sick at the thought of her residing somewhere there. Beneath his feet. Somewhere Callaghan could not go to get her, and therefore somewhere that had driven him insane. Tadashi said nothing; he was completely silent as he just gave Hiro the reins of the situation. He'd been the one to ask to come here, after all. Eventually, Hiro crossed his arms, as if he was hugging himself for warmth. "It looks nice," he offered weakly.

Tadashi shoved his hands into the pockets of the jacket he was wearing. "Yeah," he agreed. Obviously, he was keeping his voice more upbeat than Hiro was. "It looks really nice. Nice spot, nice…" He trailed off, and his face fell. Even he was unsure of what he was supposed to finish that off with. Eventually he just settled for clearing his throat and falling silent.

"It's weird," Hiro mumbled, disregarding the failed attempt. He was trying, and that was all that was worth it. "To stand here. It's…odd." He glanced down at his hands, to the paper he was holding. "'Cause…she was a real person, you know? She was _real_. It's just…sometimes…" He shook his head. "Sometimes when I think about her, all I think of is him. And sometimes…when I think of her, all I think of is me. Sometimes it's not always her. And that's what most people are going to do, from now on." He glanced over at his brother. "That's what _you_ do, isn't it?"

Tadashi hesitated, as if he wanted to argue the point. But he couldn't. He just nodded a little bit.

Hiro looked back at the grave. "That's sad," he mumbled, his voice a bit thicker with the admission. "Because…she was a real person. She was her own person." He grimaced at the mistake. Though he knew that he couldn't fix it, and be correct. So he weakly just elaborated. "She _was_. Before…all this." He tilted his head to the side. "In a way, I guess Callaghan got what he wanted. In the end. I don't think I'm ever going to be able to think of myself again without her." His eyes were burning now, and Tadashi was looking away, trying to hold himself together for his little brother. " _Nobody_ will. For the rest of my life, I'm going to be that kid who got taken, and forced to be someone else. I'll be related to… _her_." He couldn't bring himself to get the name out. "So I guess Callaghan reached his goal in the end. Just…not in the way he thought he would. Not in the way he truly wanted."

Tadashi was lost for words. So, lamely, he just leaned over, putting a hand down lightly on Hiro's shoulder. The touch wasn't much, but it was there all the same. Hiro still took comfort in it. It still meant a lot to him. Everything did, now.

He drew himself up a little bit. He turned and wiped at his eyes roughly with the sleeve of his jacket. "I don't know why I wanted to come here— I don't know why I thought it would help. I think it was more…just me thinking it was something I should do." He smiled a sad little grin. "Strange to think that…I was almost put in the exact same position…to try and undo what was here. He wasn't all that smart a person." The joke was in bad taste, and he knew it the moment it escaped his mouth. Tadashi tightened his hold on Hiro just a little bit at the mere notion, but to Hiro's relief, he didn't say anything. It was probably better that way.

Hiro looked down with a heavy sniff. He rubbed at his face again before he began to scan the ground. He landed on a small rock that was a few feet away. He went over to it quickly before scooping it up and doubling back. Neatly, he laid the note down at the foot of the headstone, making sure that the rock added a weight to ensure the paper wouldn't fly away. He felt a little silly doing it, but he arranged it nonetheless. He'd written a lot. About three pages. Again, he wasn't sure why.

Tadashi watched him intently. There was a question on his lips, Hiro knew, but he also knew his brother would never bring himself to ask it aloud. So Hiro answered it regardless, knowing that it wouldn't be right to drag him all the way out here for nothing. "I just told her I don't blame her," he explained softly. "She didn't have anything to do with it." He looked back to the grave. His stare didn't seem so heavy anymore. "I guess I just…tried to explain myself a bit. I felt like I needed to."

Tadashi looked at him steadily. "You don't have to explain anything," he objected reluctantly.

Hiro shrugged. "I wanted to," he said simply. He surveyed the stone in front of him, and his expression grew a little bit more serious. When he spoke, his voice was stronger, and a little bit louder. "And…and I think I want to explain a little more," he started, picking his words slowly, and with care. He could feel Tadashi staring at him. So he forced himself to straighten. "I think I have the right to. I think…I will."

Again, came the objection. The words spurred from nothing except for the need to shield him from anything more. "You don't have to. Don't feel like you have to."

"I don't," Hiro replied. "Not really, I mean. Maybe just a little bit. But…mostly…I just want to." He gnawed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, thinking. All the while, he stared unblinking at the stone. "I want to say _my_ part. I know…that it'll be scary. And…that I'll probably tell you I want to leave when I get there. But…I feel like if I don't say anything…it wouldn't be fair. To _either_ of us," he said, indicating the grave in front of him. "If I do this…I'll finally be able to leave it all behind. Or at least, I'll have the best _chance_ at leaving it." He looked over at his brother. "I wasn't about to let you back out of your classes because of the way people were talking about you, or looking at you. Why should I be any different?"

Tadashi's eyes softened, and he reached over to draw his little brother into a tight hug. After a small hesitation, Hiro's arms reached up to return the embrace and lock around his middle. "You're amazing, do you _know_ that?" Tadashi asked, his voice warm and proud. "You're absolutely amazing."

Hiro smiled into Tadashi's jacket. His heart tore with happiness at the sentiment. Before, back when he was taken, he would only think of Tadashi as angry with him, as disappointed. Blaming him for going out at night when he wasn't supposed to, and admonishing him for every mistake he made while there, like the situation with the knife. To hear him like this again was always a relief. A reminder that he'd made it out, and that he was shaking everything off of himself, little by little.

This would just be another step in the right direction, he knew.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"This is the worst, why in the world did you let me do this?" Hiro hissed, barely-contained panic alive in every syllable of his voice. Aunt Cass and Tadashi stared back at him a little hollowly, unsure of what to say in reply. The three of them were sitting in some back room, stuffed away out of sight until it was time for Hiro to step out. They were all dressed to the nines. Aunt Cass was wearing a long-sleeved black dress; Hiro hardly ever saw her in anything nearly that fancy, so it was almost something of a shock for him. Tadashi was wearing dress pants and a jacket— his hat had been left back at home, so his hair was fixed and gelled.

Hiro was the best dressed out of both of them. He was wearing a suit— something that Cass had bought him for the prom he never went to in high school and so he just had laying around in the closet. It still fit and everything, apparently. But right about now, Hiro was cursing the fact that it did. The tie was way too tight. The sleeves were uncomfortable, and so were the shoes. He couldn't breathe in it, and it was _way_ too hot. He paced back and forth, able to cross from one wall to the other in a matter of moments, thanks to how small the room was.

That was _another_ thing, too; this stupid room was way too small! He was _suffocating_ in it!

He whirled around after a pause, his expression angry and almost betrayed as he looked from one person to the other. "How could you let me do this?" he repeated sharply. "This is stupid, this is— let's just tell them we're not doing it anymore. I'm not doing it anymore, I'm not." He turned, heading for the door with a decisiveness that gave off finality. "We're going home. This is dumb."

Tadashi got up from the chair he'd been sitting in at this. He rushed forward and grabbed onto his brother's wrist, tugging him back before he could make it to the doorknob. "Hey!" he said, offering him a bright smile, despite the glare that was now being fired his way. "You _specifically_ told us last night that we weren't allowed to let you back out of this! You said that no matter _what_ you did or said, we shouldn't let you weasel out!" His stare was sympathetic though, and just a little bit pained. "You got this," he said, a little bit softer now. "Don't worry about it."

Hiro deflated like a balloon. He bit down on his lower lip hard for the briefest of moments, to keep it from trembling. But when he spoke, he couldn't keep his voice its fearful waver. "I can't do it, Tadashi," he admitted. "I can't do it— I'm going to mess it all up. I don't…" He looked down at his hands, where he was holding the stack of papers he'd had on his desk. The things he'd been writing and adding to for what felt like forever. They wouldn't do it justice. They wouldn't do anything justice. He knew that. Why did he think this was a good idea? Why did he promise he would be here? Why had he asked Aunt Cass to help him make the arrangements?

He looked back up at Tadashi now. His eyes were burning, and raw. "It's not going to be enough," he croaked.

"And that's fine!" Tadashi reassured. He smiled tenderly and reached up, fixing Hiro's hair a little bit, to make sure one side wasn't sticking up too much more than the other. "That's fine that those papers aren't enough. Because _you're_ enough. Okay?" He was speaking so low, he was almost whispering. But he may as well have been shouting, for all both Hiro and Aunt Cass were paying attention to him. "You've always been enough. The fact that you're even _here_ is enough. So don't you dare doubt yourself for a _second,_ Hiro. Because you're stronger than _anyone_ else that'll be in that room. And you're stronger than anything they could pull on you." He was quiet for a moment before he asked: "Understand?"

Hiro felt a lump in his throat. He glanced down at the floor, mostly out of habit. But after a moment of nothing, he gave a slow nod. "…Okay," he mumbled. When Tadashi still stared at him just as fixedly, he cracked a weak little smile. "Okay," he repeated, just the tiniest bit louder. "Yeah."

Tadashi beamed and drew back. "We'll be right with you, too," he reminded. By now, Aunt Cass had gotten up too, to stand at his side in front of the youngest. "We'll be right there— we won't let anything happen on our watch."

Hiro smiled. He started to open his mouth to reply, when the door suddenly opened instead. All three turned around at once, instantly recognizing the person that had led them in in the first place. Hiro hadn't bothered to remember her name, but she was dressed in some official-looking attire, and she smiled pleasantly to them all. "You'll be speaking soon," she said gently. "If I can lead you out?" Hiro was reluctant. He supposed he should be glad he wasn't forced to sit through the whole thing— he should be glad for the time he did get to sit out, even if the room was uncomfortable. So he offered her a smile he hoped wasn't too fake, and turned to trail after.

The family stuck close together, of which Hiro was grateful for. They courthouse was huge and intimidating, and the sound of Aunt Cass' heels seemed to bounce and echo off of the arching walls around them in an almost menacing way. It rubbed Hiro the wrong way, but he kept walking just the same. His expression was cautious however; the hallways were empty, but for how on-edge he was, it might as well have been crawling with criminals.

The walk was silent. At one point, Aunt Cass leaned over and took hold of Hiro's hand, who immediately squeezed hers in response. Tadashi lingered just a bit closer to Hiro than he normally would have as well, and Hiro wasn't about to complain about that, either. He would take all that he could get at the moment. He was drinking it all in and trying to concentrate as hard as he could on the comforting presences beside him, that he hardly noticed that they finally approached one of the doors lining the hallway.

The woman glanced at him and offered him another smile. "You ready?" she asked gently.

Hiro grimaced. He'd been prepared for it, and prepped. He'd been talked to about what it would mean to be here. Suddenly his mind was going blank, though. He couldn't remember the smallest bit of advice he'd been given. All he had were these stupid pieces of paper, which looked completely stupid to him, now. Did everyone come in with paper? He swallowed and held a bit tighter to them, crinkling them up in the process. Not glancing at either Aunt Cass or Tadashi, and simply looking straight forward, he gave a tense nod. The woman let her smile linger for the smallest moment more, as if her grin would give him all the solace he would need. And then she leaned over and opened the door for him.

Instantly, Hiro grimaced at the small roar of conversation that immediately met him when he came into view. His stomach curled in nervousness at the crowd that was inside— nearly every seat was filled. It was _swarming_ with people. He could see cameras, and instantly felt the weight of not only everyone's stare, but the fact that he was probably going to be shown to quite a lot _more_. At first, he was too alarmed to move at all. It was only a small touch on the shoulder by Tadashi that roused him enough to stir. He blinked rapidly, and, struggling to remember how to breathe, he began to force one foot in front of the other.

If he was ever conscious of his limp before now, he was way more conscious of it now. He shuffled down the aisle between the seats, which suddenly seemed about five miles long. He tried to keep his stare forward, but found that looking at all the legal figures up ahead was even more daunting, despite the fact that they all looked at him in clear sympathy. So he turned, glancing fervently instead at the people he passed. He tried to remember whether or not he'd ever seen them. Maybe they were one of the reporters who had gotten in his face.

His eyes grazed over someone in the crowd that he passed. They were looking intently at him, though it wasn't unlike the rest of the people around. Something about this person made Hiro do a small double-take, and to let his eyes stay on him briefly. They locked eyes in an awkward fashion, and, walking a little bit straighter as he got more confused, Hiro immediately tried to figure out why he thought this person looked familiar. He'd never seen them before. He hardly ever got out in the first place, and certainly not after all of this. So where—?

He turned quickly just in time to avoid running into one of the legal figures. Hiro wasn't well-versed enough to understand who was who. But, as Aunt Cass and Tadashi stayed glued to his side, he knew that he couldn't bring himself not to look. Feeling his mouth run dry, he turned and looked over to his right, to one of the tables that were stationed in front of the audience. And instantly, he took a small step backwards, into Aunt Cass, who instantly leaned over and wrapped him up in a bracing hug. Tadashi shuffled to the side as well, and though there was pain in his eyes, there was also sense of deep anger and hatred.

It was a stark comparison to what _he_ looked like, though. Hiro stood stock-still, completely rigid as he stared at Robert Callaghan for the first time since he'd been freed. _Really_ looked at him, in person. The last memory he had of the man was fuzzy and unfocused. But he remembered his face, twisted over in deep anger, and the reek of alcohol he must have downed once he'd begun to panic about being found out. He'd looked scary and frightening, but Hiro realized inwardly that he would much rather have anger, than the expression he was looking into right now.

Callaghan looked like he was a fourth of whatever person he had been before. He looked tired, and skinnier, and he was even sporting some facial hair. He was handcuffed, too, Hiro realized. The boy had to wonder whether he'd been like this the entire time, or he was just held back for this specific reason. For his being here. But the thing that caused the most discomfort to stab through him was the look that was on Callaghan's face.

He was staring at Hiro as if he had never seen him before, or as if Hiro was the last available blanket in the middle of a snowstorm. A smile was ghosting over his face, and as Hiro looked over to him and they locked eyes, it only grew and began to get stronger. Hiro's own expression weakened and crumbled in discomfort, and he held the papers in his hands a bit closer to his chest. Callaghan started to stand up, and Hiro immediately stiffened and shrank back into Aunt Cass. Tadashi reacted instantly as well, stepping to the side and throwing one arm out, as if to shield his little brother.

One of the people sitting beside Callaghan turned, grabbing hold of his wrist and pulling him back down before he could get too far up. He sat down willingly enough in his chair, though his expression turned a bit more strained at the separation. Apparently, he wasn't able to discern anything from the terrified look that was on Hiro's face. Because he even dared to call out for him, his smile still relentless, despite…well, _everything_. "Hiro!" he cried, the amount of happiness in his voice liable to cringe away from. "Hiro!"

Breathing a little uneven, Hiro quickly turned away.

The judge reacted quickly. A glare coming over her features, she was quick to bring down her gavel, the hard noise bouncing and echoing in the huge room in a way that made Hiro jump and cringe. "Order!" she snapped. "Robert Callaghan, I will not have you make contact with this boy, do you understand? You are to sit like everyone else and give respect. I pray you do not interrupt this proceeding a second time." Callaghan didn't even look at her, though he did remain silent and sat back down willingly.

The judge watched him a moment more. Then she turned, looking over to Hiro now. He didn't meet her gaze at first, though. He got sidetracked, looking over to the side to see that he was being recorded by a camera. He'd understood that it was televised. This was the hearing, after all— the sentencing hearing. But he hadn't stopped to think about what live TV meant. He blinked, momentarily frozen as he just stared at the lens of the camera. He'd been prepared and told about all of this. Mentally prepared, that was. But at the moment, it was occurring to him that he was actually not prepared at all. Not nearly enough.

"Hiro Hamada?" the judge asked. He stiffened and turned, doing a double-take as he forced himself to snap to attention. She was staring at him intently now. Though her gaze was attentive, it was also a little sympathetic at the same time. It was hard not to look that way, he guessed. He _felt_ like a deer in headlights— he had no idea what he actually looked like. When he turned and just stared up at her, she rose her eyebrows a little bit. "You've come to speak?" she asked.

Hiro blinked again. He glanced at Aunt Cass, as if he was waiting for some kind of help from her. She just shifted, moving so that she could loop her arm tightly through his, so that he could hold his papers. "I…" He looked over at Tadashi now, feeling that the room might be spinning a bit. When he turned and met Tadashi's gaze, his brother smiled in encouragement, and gave him a small nod. He squeezed his shoulder and mouthed silent: 'Breathe' to him. Just a small attempt at calming him down.

Hiro's expression turned a bit more determined. He followed the instruction as he turned back front, steadying himself and inhaling slowly. "Uh…yes, yeah, I…" He cleared his throat and shuffled his papers, glancing back down. He tried to ignore the cameras that were facing him. The subtle click of photos being taken. Wearily, he took in another breath. "I-I'm Hiro," he stated, very stupidly. "I…have been asked…for what seems like forever, really…whether or not I would be here today." He turned a bit, clearing his throat. "And for a while, I didn't think I would. Or at least…I didn't know. But…" He tried to offer the smallest bit of a smile, to make it clear that he was trying to be light about this. Trying to make a joke somehow, if he even could. "Here I am."

The whole place was completely silent, now. If someone dropped a pencil on the ground, the resulting sound would be an atomic bomb equivalent. He grimaced, knowing that the quiet was solely for him. All ears were on him— all eyes. He looked down at his papers, and his next exhale was noticeably shakier. "Um…I don't really know whether or not what I have to say is important. I don't know if it'll change whatever is going to happen. But…maybe that's why I want to say it. Or at least…you know, at least some of it. Because even though it might not change much…with _this_ , I think it'll change a lot for me. At least I think so. So I wanted to make…my part of this known. Or at least a little bit of it."

He cleared his throat again, hopefully for the last time. "I didn't know that when I left my house that night, I wasn't going to be coming back. And I'll be the first to say that what I was doing was stupid, and that it was dangerous, but I never thought for one second it would turn out to be as dangerous as it really was." He winced, but pushed on. "I didn't know I would be making the worst mistake of my life. I couldn't have. But…I did.

"I think…at the end of each year, you kind of stop and look back to things that had happened earlier, and you think to yourself that it kind of went by fast. That the year felt really short, and you had no idea where the time went." He wilted, with this. "But it wasn't like that for me. From the very second I woke up in a bunch of rope, to the second before I last fell unconscious because of something Robert gave me, every single day felt like a lifetime. By some point, I couldn't even tell days apart. They were all just one long thing that never ended, and never got any easier."

He sniffed, finding that his eyes were already beginning to well up with tears. He tried to keep his voice as in control as possible, but he could already hear it thicken and begin to get away from him. "It never got easier, even though I tried to _make_ it easier. I tried…to be what he wanted me to be, just because I had no other choice. He told me about…about his daughter, and how this was going to work. How I needed to be more like… _her_ because I already was so similar." He could get the name out. He could feel it on his tongue, but he couldn't shove it through.

"I think the worst part about it all— well, there were two worst parts," he fixed. He drew his shoulders up a little bit, gnawing a little on the inside of his cheek before he continued. "The first was being away from my family. From my aunt, and from my brother. I never knew what they were doing. At some point…after so long…I started to think that they didn't care where I was. At least…that's what Robert would always tell me. When he saw Tadashi at school that day, he would tell me how he was with his friends. How nobody cared I was gone. That life was continuing." He didn't turn and look at his family when he said this. He didn't think he could. "So that was one of the worst parts. Is that I didn't have anything but…but him. No family, but him."

He reached up to rub at his eyes, feeling a pang in his chest in the process. He scanned over his papers, trying to stay on one point and not wander away. It was getting harder and harder. "But the other…the other worst thing would be the fact that the longer I was there, the more I started to lose track of who _I_ was. I saw videos of…her, I was told stories of her, I was taught all of her favorite songs, and I was given some of her shirts to wear that fit. Basically…I wasn't myself. I tried to stay myself, but after so long of being yelled at, and being hit, and being starved, I just…gave up." He blinked a few times and grimaced as he felt the first of his tears leak over his cheek. "And now I don't think that I can go back to the way I _was_. Because I changed so much. To try and stop everything.

"And some people could blame me for that, and I wouldn't mind too much because I blame myself for it too, a little bit. Sometimes." His voice broke a little on the word. "But I couldn't help it. It was just hard. It was just really _hard_. Every day, when I didn't do something right, I would get hurt. I would stare down the barrel of a gun; I've never done that before, but before too long, it almost became normal. Which was scary. And Robert…would always threaten my aunt and my brother. He would tell me if I didn't do what he wanted, or if I tried to get out myself, I would lose what I had, really, already half-lost."

He sniffed and wiped his cheeks. When he went on after that, anyone present could hear the pain in his voice as it fell out underneath itself. He would have been embarrassed about it, if he wasn't so focused on what he was saying. "And I tried to get out. I tried _really_ hard." The suit he was wearing functioned well to cover the scar that marred his skin. That reminded him of all that had happened every time he looked down at it. "I did all I could, and it wasn't enough. And even when I did get back home…I still felt trapped. I still feel that way, sometimes. Like I never got out— like I'm still there." His breathing hitched, and he choked a little bit on the next words that made it out. "I think I'll always feel that way— maybe not all the way, but…when I'm all alone, and there's nothing else to think about. Or when someone brings it up, or when I'm trying to go to sleep. That feeling will always come back to me, because that's the way it's been up until now."

He paused for a long moment, closing his eyes tightly. It was getting harder to read the words he'd written in preparation for this, as he shuffled through the sheets. The tears that kept building up in his eyes led the writing to blur and smear in front of him. "I don't think I'll ever get free of this. I don't think I'll ever be able to look at myself the same way again, and I don't think anyone else will, either. I think that wherever I go, this will follow me, and there's nothing I can do about it."

He looked up from the papers now, his eyes narrowing and his jaw locking backwards. A little bit of anger hung in the back of his stare now, however reluctant it was. "So I don't think that Robert should be able to do the same. I don't think it's fair." He sniffed, and shook his head with a thick swallow. "I don't know the logistics of the whole thing. I don't want to. I don't want to know whether or not he's insane, or if he knew what he was doing to me, every day that I was forced to be there. I don't want to know what he said he was thinking when he didn't take me to the hospital, when I hurt myself. If he was thinking at all. I don't want to know.

"I never knew my dad. Not really. He died when I was three. And maybe the worst thing about this…the third worst thing…is that he doesn't cross my mind anymore. Not initially." He wasn't even trying to wipe at his eyes anymore, wiping away the tears wouldn't do anything. Too many were rushing down at this point. "Whenever I heard the word, 'Dad', I'll think of Robert Callaghan. The very first thing that will occur to me, is this complete mess. This nightmare I thought I would never get out of. I won't be able to think of who was really there for me— who really loved me, some time ago. I'll _always_ be haunted by what happened here. In _some_ way. And it's not fair that Robert shouldn't be the same."

He hesitated, briefly. For a moment, all he did was stand, frozen, and stare ahead. He gave himself the few seconds to back out. But he eventually drew himself up and straightened. He turned and unwound his arm from Aunt Cass, turning to look instead to the table where Robert sat. By this point, Hiro was unsurprised to see the blank stare he was getting in response. Callaghan certainly didn't look as enthused. His face was a slate, with the tiniest bit of anger smoldering in the back of it. The anger almost made Hiro stop and hunch back into Aunt Cass. But he struggled to keep a hold on his panic. He was chained— there was no way for him to make a move.

Instead, he glared at him. A little weakly, and with a little fear, but a glare all the same. His voice trembled like a leaf on its way out. "You did something _awful_ ," he all but whispered. Still, Callaghan hardly even blinked. "You did something _awful_ to me." His lower lip trembled, and his voice came out about an octave higher than it normally did when he said: "You made me think that you killed my _brother_. When I woke up in the hospital, I didn't even believe he was sitting there."

He shook his head quickly. "You may not have taken my brother away from me, but you took _so_ many other things. You took away my happiness. And my confidence, and my identity, and everything in between. I'm trying to get those things back, and I am. But it's _hard_. And you _made_ it hard. It's hard _because_ of you." His voice was harder now, and harsher. The determination and harshness in his stare was growing stronger, despite himself. "You didn't just take away a _year_ of my life. You took away a lot more than that. Because it'll keep being hard, until I can eventually dig my way out, _which I'm going to do_. _I'm_ going to dig my way out. Not…" Again, he couldn't get out her name. It was such a simple thing, that he apparently could not do.

Lamely, Hiro just backtracked. "I'm going to be better than this. I'm going to _get_ better than this. But you're not going to. You shouldn't _get_ to." He took in another sharp breath. "You broke me down so much, that when I told you I loved you, I really meant it. I… _needed_ …you. Do you _know_...how _messed up_ that is? Do you even _know_? Do you even _get_ it?" Still, Robert only stared at him. If anything, his stare was meaner. It only confirmed Hiro's thoughts. So he took in a slow breath, and his voice came more disappointed now. "I'm going to move on from this. I'm going to _get_ to. But I _know_ you won't."

He was coming to a close, now. He was running his course. There wasn't much point in going on much longer. "I wish this could have ended differently. I really wish it could have." Because he'd given him time and time again, chance after chance, to take things back. To let Hiro go, and for things to end amicably. But it never turned out to be true. What would have happened if such had been the case? He guessed it was pretty pointless to wonder. "Because this isn't what anyone wanted. It's not what I wanted." He paused, biting on his lower lip. He cleared his throat and stated dully: "It's certainly not anything she would have wanted, either."

Robert's expression did change, with this. He stiffened, in a way that Hiro could pick up even where he stood. His eyes flashed, and a little bit more sorrow flooded into his stare. Hiro was through looking at him, though. It was making him sick— his stomach was in knots, and his legs were shaking by this point. He just turned, leaning back into Aunt Cass, who instantly wound her arm through his once more. Tadashi sidled closer to him, as well, his expression still wary and protective. For a heartbeat, there was nothing but silence. An air of expectance at the question of whether or not Hiro was finished. So, quietly, he offered a small whisper of: "Thank you."

There was silence again, for the briefest of moments that felt like a lifetime. But then there was a slow smattering of applause. Applause that spread through the people that were watching, and momentarily filled the space to the brim. Hiro looked down at the floor, his eyes a little wide as he let out a relieved breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It felt like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders, to hear the small burst of applause. He didn't really felt like he deserved it; he didn't feel like he did much.

But here he was. He'd done it.

The judge looked at him steadily where she sat. "Thank you, Hiro," she murmured.

He nodded. He glanced one more time over at Robert— one final look. Before he held close to Aunt Cass and felt her turn, to begin to walk back down the aisle. They'd planned to take a seat in the back, to stay and listen to the sentence that Robert Callaghan would get. But right as Cass made for a row they could find, Hiro tightened his grip on her and turned instead for the door. The other two followed him without any hesitation whatsoever. Instantly, they followed him out of the room— out of the prying eyes of those that were there, and the cameras that were trained on him as well.

He stumbled out of the room and the door shut behind them. The family was standing alone, back out in the hallway they had walked down to get there. It was then that Hiro took his arms back to himself, breathing out heavily again as he ran his hands through his hair. His hands and legs were shaking, and he turned to the wall, pressing his back against it and sliding down. Instantly, Aunt Cass flocked over to him and crouched down, putting her hands on his knees in worry. "Are you okay, honey?" she asked, already sounding frantic. "Honey, do you need something?"

Hiro was quick to shake his head. "No," he sighed. "No, I'm…I'm okay. I'm fine, I'm just…" He grimaced, looking up again and heaving his millionth exhale. "That was just a lot," he breathed. Tadashi crouched down in front of him as well, at Aunt Cass' side, and Hiro looked from one to the other, apprehension leaking into his gaze. "I don't…" He looked down at the papers in his hand. He'd gotten off track. He hadn't said all that was in there, and he had added a few things too. His forehead creased. "I think I did it wrong," he managed dismally, after a second.

Aunt Cass weakened a bit. She had tears in her eyes, Hiro realized. Her eyes were glistening with water, though she was doing her best to hold it back. At her nephew's fear, she leaned forward, wrapping him up in a hug as she pulled him close. "No, honey, no," she whispered, choked. "You did perfect, honey. You couldn't have done anything better at all. "I'm so proud of you, baby. And I love you so much." She turned and peppered his cheeks with quick kisses.

Tadashi smiled and leaned over rub his shoulder comfortingly. With sympathy in his eyes, he asked a soft: "Do you want to go back in? Or no?"

Hiro looked up, his expression doubtful. He looked over his shoulder, to the door that was to the side. He bit down on his lower lip and hesitated.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"You think dogs bring the ball back to you because they think you just like throwing the ball?" Hiro asked, thoughtful as he looked down at Nozomi, who was coming back to him for the thirtieth time. He was sitting at one of the café tables, a smile on his face as he stooped down to grab up the toy. Tadashi snickered, looking up from where the table he was wiping down. Behind him, Aunt Cass was going over some bills, trying to get themselves caught up on payments and such.

"I don't know," Tadashi quipped. "Maybe you should ask her."

Hiro made a face. He turned, looking behind him with raised eyebrows. "What about you, Baymax?" he asked. "Do you think dogs bring back the balls for you? Or for them?"

Baymax blinked slowly, processing the question a little pointlessly, given that such a thing wouldn't be in his database at all. He looked down at Hiro intently, regardless, and the teenager grinned as he realized that the robot was actually trying. "I do not know, Hiro," he replied. "I could certainly find the answer for you, though, if you desire to know."

Hiro laughed, shaking his head. "No, Baymax, it's fine. There's not an answer."

"Why did you even bring him all the way down here?" Tadashi asked, undoing a stray straw and blowing the wrapper over to Hiro. It collided against his head, to which the younger brother immediately soured at. "I swear, if you asked for my help in dragging his charging station all the way down _both_ flights of steps, so you could ask why Nozomi is so obsessed with a ball, I'm gonna chop your head off. _All_ dogs like fetch. This isn't breaking news."

"I brought him down because I _like_ him," Hiro chirped. He turned, reaching back to poke the robot. "We're pals. Aren't we Baymax? We're tight. Tell Tadashi."

Baymax looked down at him and seemed to focus. Then he looked over at Tadashi. "We are tight," he stated calmly, causing Hiro to double over in laughter.

Tadashi cracked a grin too, unable to help it. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. Baymax looked back at Hiro and tilted his head to the side. "I do not understand the joke," he said. "However, your neural levels are elevated, and therefore I have made you happier." Hiro softened a little bit at the sentiment. His expression turned more affectionate, and grateful. "Is there anything else you would like me to repeat?" the robot asked. "Something that would make you laugh again?"

Hiro lit up like a Christmas tree. He turned around in his chair, looking at Baymax intensely, now. "Oh my God, Baymax, can you say—?"

"Hiro, no." Tadashi was quick to stop him, before he could even say anything.

Hiro twisted back around. "Why not?" he demanded in shock. "I just want—"

"You're gonna corrupt him. I'm going to have to build an entirely new one."

The younger started to argue, when he realized that Tadashi seemed distracted now. His brother looked over to the side, and his expression grew a little bit guarded. Almost a little bit angry. Uncertain, Hiro turned and followed his gaze, Cass doing the same when both of them quieted at the same time. All three pairs of eyes went over to the door to see a stranger on the other side. Well— a stranger in technical terms. But Hiro knew them. Not their name; but he knew that it was that same person from before. The man that had locked eyes with him before, in the court room. He was standing there, one fist raised as if he was about to knock. However, he stopped short when they all noticed him without it.

Hiro stood up first, surprisingly, and limped towards the door. Tadashi immediately stood up after, looking unsure. He called out his little brother's name, trying to warn him not to. But Hiro wasn't listening. Hearing both Tadashi and Aunt Cass weave around the tables to stand behind him, Hiro leaned over and opened the door. He stepped back a little bit, his expression nervous now. The man looked just as nervous too, and again, Hiro wondered where he had seen this person. Because he had. And his forehead only creased in confusion when he came up short.

It was quiet for a long time. In an awkward burst, neither of the two of them said anything. Eventually, Hiro drafted something up. It wasn't much, but it was something. "We're closed," he said, a little dumb. "There's a…noodle place down the road, though." He paused for a moment before he added a little softer: "Not really in the mood to talk anymore, today."

"No, I…" The man winced a bit and leaned back to shove his hands into his pockets. "I understand," he said. Even his voice sounded familiar. "I…I just thought you'd like to know." He looked back at Hiro now, steadily. After looking him up and down, there seemed to be a strange amount of sadness in his gaze. "He got sentenced to life," he reported. "No chance at parole." At the news, the entire family's eyes went wide. Hiro's shoulders drooped, and it looked like the wind had gotten knocked out of him. He was so surprised, that he hardly heard the other's next words. "You never came back in to hear the sentencing. And I wasn't sure whether or not you would want to watch it. So…I just thought I would stop here. And tell you."

Hiro was silent for a long time. "I…thanks," he said eventually, one eye closed in a wince.

Cass reached forward a little cautiously, wary of the stranger as she put a hand on her nephew's shoulder. The man wasn't oblivious to the fact, either. "Thank you for telling us," she offered, despite how stiff her voice sounded. "That's…that's a very big relief." It was clear nobody really knew what to do with the information. Whether to celebrate, or feel disheartened. To feel triumphant, or just nothing.

The man nodded. "He's going away for good," he pressed. His eyes found Hiro again. They stayed there. "For what he did. It was…it was truly awful. I'm sorry. I— that's what I wanted to say, too. I wanted to say that I was sorry."

Hiro managed a shake of the head. "It's not your fault," he offered in a small mumble.

He nodded again. The look was starting to get to Hiro. He knew this person. He'd _talked_ to them before, hadn't he? Briefly? "Alright," they said. "Well…I just wanted to say that." The words were a little more than awkward. "I'll…I'll go now. Sorry for—"

"What's your name?" Hiro asked, the question blurting out. "Who…who are you?"

They paused, clearly not anticipating the inquiry. But to Hiro's relief, they didn't ignore him. They just offered him a small wince of a smile. "Oh, my name is— I'm Hikaru." The name slapped Hiro across the face, and it was clear by the small way he jerked backwards. His eyes widened a bit, and it all clicked. The familiar sound of his voice, however deeper it was now. And he could recall the features that made the other's face so recognizable. He had the same color eyes Hiro had seen in the videotape— his hair was the same dark shade. Looking at him now, clad in a suit for the trial, Hiro could remember the way he looked when he had taken her to prom. It was like staring straight at a ghost, yet the exact opposite.

"Hikaru," Hiro rasped, alarmed. "I…I know you," he said, without thinking. Hikaru's face fell somewhat, but if Hiro didn't know any better, he would have thought that he didn't look very surprised at all. In fact, by the look on his face, Hiro would guess that the other had been dreading this exact outcome. That mostly, he had only come to do this in the first place to see whether or not he would be able to see if this very thing was the case. "I've seen you, I mean," Hiro managed, trying to elaborate. Though he knew it probably wasn't worth much. "In videos. And…and I was told about you."

A little bit more pain sprung up in his eyes at the words. "Right," he murmured, barely audible as he spoke under his breath. "Abigail, she…she always liked to take videos of things. I wondered, but…I didn't want to…" Didn't want to ask? Or didn't want to know? Either way, Hiro guessed it didn't matter. It was pretty much pointless. Hikaru looked over Hiro again, in a way that made him feel like he was under a microscope. "I was close, with her," he said, a little obviously. "So…when I heard what happened, I…I didn't really know what to do. I…I used to keep up with Robert. Check in every now and then, to make sure he was alright. But…I stopped, about a year ago. If I have known, I would have…I feel like I'm a little bit to blame…"

Hiro glanced back at Tadashi and Aunt Cass now. It was clear by the look on his face he was silently asking them to leave— to not hang over his shoulder when he was trying to have a conversation. The knowledge of what Callaghan had gotten as a sentence, and the knowledge that he was going away for good, was ringing in his head and demanding to be addressed. Demanding for some kind of reaction. But he knew that this was probably more important, somehow. He would react once it was through.

Tadashi glanced at Aunt Cass, who gave a small nod. The two of them, eyeing Hikaru with clear reluctance, turned to go back to what they were doing. It didn't offer too much in the way of privacy, given they weren't stepping away very far, and they certainly wouldn't keep themselves from eavesdropping. But all the same, it was something. Hiro turned back to Hikaru, wringing his hands in front of him, now. "I know," he offered. "That you two were close, I mean. I saw the videos she took. I know…that you took her to prom." 'Her.' Just 'her.' He couldn't say the name. Not yet. "I think…you were the only friend of hers I saw. On film, very often, I mean."

He smiled at this, but the expression was riddled with pain. He reached up to wipe at his mouth, and as he looked at Hiro, his eyes seemed to get a little bit shinier. "Yeah," he laughed, his voice crumbling somewhat, in a way that made Hiro weaken a tad. "Yeah, she was…" Hikaru cleared his throat, but it didn't make it any less choked when he said with slight falter: "We were going to get married. Uh…a few months before she died, I— I proposed. Did he…did he tell you that?"

Hiro was shocked he hadn't. He gave a tiny shake of the head. "No," he rasped. "No, he…he didn't."

Hikaru nodded for a while. He sniffed and rubbed at his forehead. "Yeah, well…we were," he said lamely. He glanced down, and Hiro did the same, realizing that on his left hand, there was still a small, silver band there. Still? Or was it for someone else? Somehow, by going off the way he looked, Hiro doubted it. Hikaru looked back at him now, and suddenly his expression sharpened with something close to alarm. Hiro winced a little bit as he started to speak quickly, and a little impulsively. "I'm so sorry, I just— I wanted to see you. One last time, I— I don't live here anymore, but when the news broke out, and they released a picture of you, you— you had her hair, and— and I'm sorry, you just…" He trailed off, staring at Hiro in a dismal silence.

Hiro looked to the ground now, his heart feeling heavy. He didn't say anything.

Hikaru pulled himself out of his stupor, however weakly. "You…I'm sorry," he repeated eventually. "I'm glad you're safe. And that you got out. And— and I'm sorry that…that I could have done something to prevent it, probably. You— you were right when you said what you did in the courtroom. Abigail…she wouldn't have wanted what happened. Thank you, for…for including her in that. You…you didn't have to. Speak for her, I mean. But…but it meant a lot that you did." He coughed a little bit, to clear his voice so it wouldn't keep falling out on him. "So…so I wanted to say thank you. And…and that I was sorry."

He looked up, and smiled weakly. "You're welcome." He turned to clap his hands behind his back, now. Gently, he offered a genuine: "It was nice to see you. Hikaru."

He nodded once. "Bye…Hiro," he replied after a small pause. A sense of deep pain seemed to ghost in the back of his gaze as he looked at the boy. Searching his hair that was longer, but still held a slightly similar shape to hers. Even the way he was looking at him, seemed to draw a call back to her. He had to tear his gaze away— he had to force it. "I hope…I hope you get past all of this."

Hiro kept up his smile. "I hope you do too," he replied earnestly.

Hikaru paused for a moment. But he nodded again. He offered Hiro one last smile, and one last shared glance, between two people that were not entirely connected, but connected all the same. Hikaru let his gaze linger for a little while longer before he turned his back. He started down the street the way that he had come, though, standing in the doorway, Hiro felt his gaze flicker back every so often. All the same, the young boy stayed there for a heartbeat, his stare a little heavy as he tried to absorb all that had just happened. All that it meant. It seemed to be too much.

That was what this whole situation was, though, really. Just too much.

Slowly, he stepped away from the door, and shut it behind him. Still, he stared ahead. Tadashi and Aunt Cass were already looking up from what they were doing, but Tadashi was the first to say something. "Are you okay?" he asked. "What was that all about?"

Hiro turned back to them, rubbing his arm slowly, where the scar was underneath his sleeve. "I, uhhh…he was who she was going to marry, I guess," he said lamely. "I knew him, from videos. He was in the courtroom. He just…wanted to say goodbye." A little more thoughtful than anything, he turned to look out the window, the way he had gone. Under his breath, he muttered: "And…I think he wanted to see her. One last time. Maybe."

Tadashi seemed to flash over with hostility. "Well, he came to the wrong place, then."

Hiro just blinked, and repeated himself. "Maybe." He went back front. Walked back over to them, and taking the seat he had been in before. His words a tiny bit hollow, he declared: "It's over, though. For now, anyway." There would be more reporters. Even more so now, after he'd gone out the way he had, and the results were back. But in technicalities of it. "Robert's gone. He's not going to come back." He'd be able to sleep at night without fear of the man barging in and killing his family. Ripping him back to his house and trapping him there. He glanced down, smiling at Nozomi, who put her paws up on his legs. Fondly, he scratched her ear. "It's all done."

"Yeah," Tadashi agreed, his eyes brighter now. "…You made it. You pulled through."

Aunt Cass softened, pride causing her eyes to gleam a tearful sort of love. She said nothing, though her gaze was intent as she looked between the two of her nephews. Hiro looked up, shifting his gaze from his older brother, to his aunt. He melted just a little bit too, feeling the first wave of relief hit him. Relief accompanied with regret, of course, that it had to come to this. But relief that things would die down. That this would all begin to stop, and maybe, somehow, he could begin to pick up the pieces of himself. If he could.

But it was more important than that. He knew that. This stretched beyond just him. If anything, speaking with Hikaru just now was all the proof he needed. If he even needed proof in the first place. So the smile that folded over his face was brighter, and gentle. "Nah," he hummed, looking from Tadashi, to Aunt Cass, who both looked at him in slight confusion. The boy's hand lingered on Nozomi, who was perfectly content to rest happily underneath the small pressure. He'd felt jealous of the dog, a short time ago, because she could be so happy, regardless of anything else that had happened.

Maybe he'd be able to do the same, now. In time.

Hiro continued, looking at the two with a small glimmer of hope and enthusiasm that, up until this point, he hadn't really been able to genuinely express.

"No," he repeated, again, that same light voice. "We all did."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: Anyone that wants to complain about how long this took, may I refer you to the twenty-three page count. This took quite a while, in the effort make it as thorough and great as possible. So I sincerely hope, with this chapter, I got to do just that! This is the second-to-last chapter, and I'm excited to write the very next one. I've been planning it for honestly going on more than six months. I hope it will be a well enough ending for a story like this, which I am so proud of!

I hope to hear from you all in a review, with your thoughts! I certainly put quite a lot of work into this chapter, so hearing your thoughts would be great! I hope you're ready for the next chapter, and you're enjoying the way this story is wrapping up! This is honestly one of my favorite fanfictions I've ever written, and I'm glad that I could keep writing for you and now that I could finish for you!

Apologies for any typos. In the effort to finish this story before I go back to school, I don't really have the time to edit! Though I hope to eventually!


	27. Epilogue - Part One

A/N: I apologize dearly for the break in updates again, however, I wanted to do this ending justice! This was _going_ to be the very last chapter of Bruises, and I say 'going to be' for a purpose. The reason that this chapter was taking soooooo long to publish out here was because I just kept going with it. There was far too much I wanted to put into one chapter, and I realized that. This chapter was going on twenty-five pages, and so I just decided to splice it in half and keep going with the other, rather than prioritize the conformity that I had wanted. So.

These are the first eighteen pages to the last chapter of Bruises! The next chapter _should not take very long at all for me to post,_ and I know I say that a lot, but I only have one more week of college, and I have seven pages already finished for it. So! Just give me just a bit more time, and I'll be able to wrap this story up as carefully and lovingly as it deserves, because this really has been one of my favorite stories to write for! I hope people are still waiting for this despite the break, and I hope the wait will be worth it! Thank you very much for your patience, and I hope you like it!

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Can you _believe_ it?"

"When I saw my schedule I had to double check to make sure. I knew he was _here_ , but...well…"

"How could you _not_ know he was here?"

"I can't believe they would _let_ him teach here, though. Can you imagine? Where's the _logic_?"

"My dad told me I should drop. Or at least request a different teacher…"

"Yeah, my mom said she didn't like me in this class. With him teaching it, I mean."

"I don't think it's that big a deal, why is everyone freaking out?"

"So long as _he_ doesn't freak out on _us_ …"

"You can't be too sure. Don't you remember what _happened_? How could he _be_ here?"

"Someone who had him before told me that you can't even _look_ at him the wrong way. Or else…"

"Yeah, but they probably failed the class, and just wanted to start trouble. Leave him _alone_. What's in the past is in the past. It happened. Let it go."

"You want us to just _let it go_? Really?"

"Well. _He_ did, apparently."

"So if he's here, does that mean the _school's_ put it behind them, too?"

"It's just _so_ weird. This is going to be _so_ weird."

"It's just a _class_."

"Yeah. A class with _him_ in charge."

She was sitting in the front row of the classroom, with all of the other people that had come in too late to pick a seat in the back. Waiting for the professor to walk in, she listened dully to the scattered phrases and snippets of conversation that were flying around the room. It was hard not to, considering how tense and excited the atmosphere was. Ever since the first two people had entered the classroom, and were left to the openness of conversation and the availability to voice their fears and build upon them, it had been going like a freight train. Only worse, considering things could get away from you when you fretted about them, really.

She didn't comment along with them. Like most of the people around her in the front row of seats, she took to silence, just arranging her notebook in front of her to an open page. She glanced at the clock, tucking a lock of brown hair behind her ear. Class was supposed to start about two minutes ago, and their teacher had yet to show up. It wasn't helping the rumor mill. Hardly anyone else was even sitting— they were all milling around, talking to whatever friends they had already made, or sitting on top of the tables, anxious eyeing the room.

First days were always supposed to be exciting, but _come on_. This was a bit too much.

Just as she was about to maybe slip out her phone and distract herself, the door opened. At the subtle click that signaled this new entrance, all talk and gossip in the classroom immediately died. Everyone's heads wrenched over to the left, and a couple of the student's eyes even went a little wide in expectation. Sure enough, he walked over the threshold, turning and looking over the kids that were waiting. At first, the man did nothing. He just stared at the students, his expression just as expectant.

Quickly, the kids got the message. Those who were standing or loitering, snapped into motion and took their seats. Scrambled for them, really. Even the girl up front could not hold herself away from the nervousness of it all, and she clasped her hands a little nervously in her lap. Their professor looked at them all for a long moment before he turned and walked in silence to the desk ahead, putting his briefcase down with a heavy thud on the wood. It seemed to echo.

He took a moment, just to himself, at first. Just studying the case he had put down, as if he wasn't sure why he had, and was struggling to recall. Then he blinked a few times and turned his stare to those before him. His look was hard, and unfriendly. There was the smallest narrow to his eyebrows, as if he already harboring a disdain for the group of kids now at his disposal. Now at his responsibility. They had been waiting for a while for their teacher to get here, yet now that he was, it was clear by the body language of everyone that they wished for him to turn and leave once more.

The entire aura around him was cold and menacing. Maybe it was bias, maybe it was hindsight, or maybe it was something else. He was wearing a crisp-looking suit and tie; even the outfit seemed too dark, and too harsh. Every teacher today, especially with the incoming freshman to college, were bursting with optimism, and bubbling with the whole spiel of: "Are you ready for a _wonderful_ semester?" He wasn't even uttering a word, and it had been at _least_ a solid minute of complete silence. It was so awkward, that a few of the students – including the girl in the front row – turned and looked away from him. To the walls, to the windows, to _anything_ else.

Finally, after this period of intense quiet, the teacher spoke up. Predictably, his voice was just as cold as his expression was. It was levelled and taut, and it left no room or leeway for the messages of positivity that had been bombarding the campus on its first day. It had been irritating the students to death: the cramming of happiness down their throats when they knew that in just about a month they would be plotting escaping midterms via plane and never returning. Now, staring in the face of _this_ , pretty much every person sitting there would rather have Professor Barry doing her shimmying dance to the tune of 'Happy Birthday' as she sang: "Happy New Start to us!"

"You all signed up for this class knowing full well that _this_ is the class that makes this school what it is," the professor started, his expression hard, and his words now weighted and heavy. His eyes narrowed a bit more, and he clasped his hands tightly behind his back. "And I did not make this program all that it is now, for it to fall flat. You know the work that will have to be put into this subject, and if you don't, I _highly_ recommend you start to realize it now, rather than later. This course is going to be grueling and back-breaking; if you don't come in with the drive to accomplish _each and every task_ I throw at you, with flying colors, then you are going to find yourself in deep trouble, indeed."

Nobody spoke at all. The students were pretty much in a state of shock. Just staring at their teacher, as he went on. "I don't give hand-outs. I don't give extra credit, I don't give any pity grades, and I make _sure_ that my office hours are limited. If any of you have to have that kind of help, you are not worth my time. I'm here to _teach_. I'm here to make those who _want_ to learn, _learn_. Those that don't want to put in the work…I won't put in the work for you, either. This is a two-way street, and I am _never_ known for being very generous in allowances. That's not going to change anytime soon, I don't care _who_ you are, or _what_ your sob story is."

Some of the students were beginning to get angry, now, or at least put-off by this 'hello.' Some others were getting nervous— most of them were simply confused, and starting to weaken in alarm. The girl up front was holding her pencil tightly in her hand, trying her best not to become overwhelmed by what was taking place. "I'm here to _teach_ ," the man reiterated. "I'm not here to make _friends_. I'm not here to wave _hi_ at you when I see you walking through campus, or sit down and eat lunch with you when we happen to be eating at the same time. I don't _care_ about that. I care about grades, and that's _it_. Don't come to me at the end of the semester and try to give me puppy-dog eyes because you have a D, and need to pass. I won't care about you at all."

He inhaled sharply. His stare narrowed even more. "If any of you think that this course isn't right for you, and that you can't meet the high expectations I will have for you throughout these next four months, then I suggest you leave right now." There was a finality to the words. A finality that made it more than a mere suggestion, and something of an order instead. "I have no tolerance for quitters, or slackers. And I can promise you, if any of you drag this on longer than it needs to be, and waste my time, then your life will become very, _very_ complicated and _difficult_."

There was a long stretch of silence. Nobody spoke. Nobody even moved. Their professor cleared his throat, turning and pointing over to the door. "If anybody wishes to quit now, and save everyone here much grief and irritation and trouble, should they think themselves unable to meet the standards I'm putting up, then there's the exit. I say take it. Now."

The final word seemed to ring throughout the classroom. Still, nobody moved. Every student moved to look around, though. To look at the other people around them, to look at the door, to try and gauge what was happening a bit better. Some looked like they were just waiting to figure out what everyone else was going to do before they did anything themselves. The girl up front was one of those people, confused as she turned, and her eyes flitted over the people that were around her. They looked just as lost as she was. Just as tense and worried and baffled by the fact that this was even happening.

Nobody moved, though. Not one person got up and went towards the door, or took the out that was offered.

Their teacher surveyed them for about another twenty seconds, still in that quiet expectation. Waiting for someone to move— for _anyone_ to move. When nobody did, he blinked a few times, drawing away from his desk, which he had started to lean against, to straighten. He looked over the entire crowd again, from left to right. Contemplating.

Then, like the flipping of a switch, he lit up like a Christmas tree. Brilliant and ecstatic, a smile spread quickly from ear to ear. The intimidating demeanor of his melted on the spot, and the entire room seemed to immediately relax and brighten up.

"Yes!" he cheered, reaching out to thump a triumphant hand on the desk in front of him. He was obviously ignoring the bewildered looks from his students. Or maybe that was what was making him smile so much— maybe that was why there was such laughter behind his voice when he spoke. "Tadashi owes me _a hundred bucks_ — I _knew_ none of you would back out! He's such a drama queen!" Not that he couldn't claim the opposite, after all he just did. But _still._ He smile, and swelled a little bit with that same sense of happiness. "You guys are _awesome_ , I can already tell. This is gonna be great. This is gonna be _fantastic_."

Still, he was getting burned with all these kids' looks. His grin, however, was unrelenting. He shook his head, reaching up and showing his hands as if in surrender. "Sorry, I'm sorry! But it _was_ a hundred dollars. I could buy a lot with that." Laughter bubbled up at his throat. "No, no! No! Forget all that I just said. I _do_ give extra credit, I have _so many_ office hours, and honestly, I don't even _have_ lunch anymore without being dragged away by some student who happened to order the same bowl of noodles." He giggled again, shaking his head and turning for the board. He picked up a marker and uncapped it with a flourish. "Basically, unless I've scarred you emotionally, and you're one of those people with photographic memories of things terrifying, take whatever I just said and twist it all around as much as you'd like. Really can't go wrong."

Those gathered watched, bemused, as he started to scratch down a name. Once he did, he stepped to the side, gesturing to it a little dramatically. "The title that this _specific_ Institute has deemed to me, is Doctor Hamada, but given that my _awful_ , manic brother is _straight_ down the hall, that'd probably be a bit confusing. _So_! If you'd like to call me by the cooler: Mister H, that'd be swell. Or Professor Great. Though most people around here seem to prefer Hiro for some reason. So…take your pick. I guess. Whatever you want. I'm not a choosy person. I take what I can get."

Still, nobody really seemed to get what they should do. A little bit of guilt came over his look at the silence, though it came in the form of a bashful grin. "I really _am_ sorry," Hiro laughed. "But Tadashi bet me that at least _one person_ would walk out of my class if I did that; I really just couldn't let him have the satisfaction. And I've always been a gambling kind of guy." He waited for maybe some laughter, or something else that would let him know that he was off the hook in terms of the newfound attitude towards him. But he didn't get anything, so he kind of waved it off. "Okay, okay. You'll forgive me later, then, don't worry."

He spun around, to scoop up the sheet of paper in front of him. "I'll take attendance, then, since none of you guys seem to be very fun," he chirped. "Let's see here…Emily Aaron?" He flashed the person a small smile when she rose her hand, looking pretty daunted. "Hi, Emily. Justin Abbot?" Again, he offered the: "Nice to meet you, Justin." He went through the entire list like that; pausing at every name to offer a greeting, or a compliment, or something else just as nice. Perhaps he was trying to make up for the small fright his entrance had created. Or maybe that was just him in general. He certainly wasn't like Professor Manning, down in the psychology wing, who was so old he hardly even had the energy to write on the board. Professor Hamada was the youngest professor that had ever taught here, at San Fransokyo Institute of Science and Technology.

He grinned once it was all through. "Alright," he sighed, contented, after marking through it all. "Everyone's here! Let's see how long that keeps up." He said this in a small laugh, but a careless one, that showed he had little to no real expectations. "Anyone's name I didn't call? Someone I called and they're… _not_ supposed to be here?" His lips pursed a bit, and tilted his head to the left. "Anyone that's not a student here, and they were really just looking for a bathroom, and now they're wondering how they could have messed things up this badly?" This actually garnered a few laughs, and he seemed to relax with the reaction, however minimal.

Hesitantly, the brown-haired girl in the front row raised her hand.

Hiro turned and grinned. "There's a bathroom down the hall and to the left, if you're looking," he joked.

"N-No," she blushed, smiling in embarrassment when there was even more laughter. She reached back and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, in a nervous tic. "I…you didn't call my name," she amended, Hiro instantly perking and looking down at the paper. "I registered really last-minute…they said I might have to remind my teachers when I got here…"

"Oh!" He nodded blankly for a second, before he grabbed up the pencil again and poised over the paper. "That's fine! No biggie. Just give me your name, and I'll add it to the roster. I'll make sure it won't happen again." He paused a second, before clearing his throat and asking again: "What's your name, then?"

She gave a small cough. "Abigail," she replied. "Abigail Hayashi."

The tense atmosphere, which had slowly been thawing away, immediately sprung back up in the classroom. The students glanced at one another, obviously knowing full well already the issue that was now here. Maybe issue wasn't the right word; maybe it was more along the lines of awkwardness. There wasn't a single person here that didn't know the story. Abigail wasn't ignorant to the information, either. Her hands were back to clasping in her lap, and her expression weakened with a small wince.

Hiro stared down at the piece of paper for a moment, not even moving; he didn't even blink. His eyes flashed, and for a heartbeat, it seemed like he was almost going to be angry, or call her out for playing some sort of joke. But when he looked back up at her, and the discomfort that was there on her face, he swallowed hard and straightened. "Right," he mumbled, looking down and making a note of her presence. "Well, welcome to class, Abi—" He stopped short. The group stared at him in silence. His forehead creased briefly, staring down at the wood desk below him. He seemed distracted.

Then he snapped his head up, his expression brightening in a forced and pulled way. He pointed the pencil over in her direction, to indicate her. "Can I call you Abby? Is that what people usually call you?" he pressed, in happy, chipper way.

At first, the request, however disguised it had meant to be, was met only with quiet and apprehensive glances. Hiro was well aware of the mistake he had made, and how prominent of one it was. But to his sheer relief, the girl brightened and smiled, accompanying the grin with a hasty nod. "Yeah! That's…that's what my family nicknames me." He had no way of knowing if that was true, of course. "You can call me Abby; of course." Her smile was friendly, and it even held a trace of something akin to sympathy.

The problem was clear, in this situation. But it was also one that was going unspoken.

Hiro smiled. Though there was something off about the gesture. It certainly wasn't as genuine as it had been before, when he had broken off of his façade from earlier. It didn't touch his eyes at all, in any way. He was silent for a heartbeat or more— though it may as well have been about a million years. That same odd stare, the one with a wide smile but eyes that seemed far too pained to match it, lingered for a moment as he looked at her. As if she had something on her shirt and he just didn't know how to break it to her politely.

The silence felt like it lasted the entire semester, but it really only lasted for about three painful seconds. Hiro turned quickly on his heel, delving back to his desk and opening up the case he had sat down. "Okay!" he said, in a voice that tightened a bit uncomfortably on its end. "Let's get the syllabus all talked through and out of the way, then, alright? Then we can move on to…we can move on to the good stuff! All the…lectures and quizzes and tests and jazz!" A few kids turned and exchanged awkward looks. Abigail could feel nearly everyone's eyes at least graze her. Some in sympathy, some in pity, some in apprehension. As soon as the wrench had started to come out of this class, she had jammed it back in.

Hiro got out the stack of papers and began to walk slowly up to the desks, doling out the packet that detailed their class. Robotics was what the institute was famed for; that part of his speech had not been fabricated. So it was no wonder that the packet was as big as it was. He tried to make more light conversation as he handed out the papers. Talking about how his brother was the other head of the Robotics department, and how every year they would organize a fair in the program where students could build and display work. He mentioned it would take place later in the year. But his voice was noticeably not as light as it had been a moment before.

"It's a really good time. And if any of my students take part in it, I give extra credit." Abigail wilted uncomfortably when Hiro got to her, and he paused, leafing through the papers so that he could hand her a packet. She accepted the papers with a quiet mumble of thanks. Hiro gave her a small smile that he meant to be reassuring, yet it came out a bit apologetic. Abigail returned the smile readily enough, feeling a touch of relief at the subtle gesture. But when Hiro turned and kept walking down the line, and his gaze flickered away from her, the smile dropped, and she hunched over the desk a bit. Her face fell, and she wearily kept her gaze down, tracing small circles on her paper in the effort to distract herself.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"…and Tadashi made me _promise_ not to tell anyone, so that's why I told each and every one of you in these last few minutes of class, and if you write that entire story down on the bottom of your test in two days, I will give you three extra credit points," Hiro stated, setting the marker down after finishing the day's test review. In the few short years he _had_ been teaching classes here, Professor Hamada explained how he made it a tradition to end the day before the test, with a horribly-embarrassing story about his brother. HE claimed this tactic did wonders for the students' moods— it made them laugh, and it _also_ affirmed the prospect of extra credit.

But he'd also admitted he mostly did it, because it always made Tadashi horribly angry.

"Any questions before the test?" Hiro asked, leaning back against the wall. But he was smiling already, and he looked entirely unsurprised by the silence that met him. Because it wasn't a surprise, really. He'd mentioned before that, especially in comparison to his other class, this one was the 'one to beat.' They hardly ever had any questions. "Alright, then," he chirped, straightening and clapping his hands together. "You're free to go! Study hard! Impress me! If you have any questions before Friday, go ahead and just email me. I'll reply."

With the dismissal, the students began to pack up. Abigail pushed her chair away from the desk, giving a bracing sigh as she closed her notebook and shoved it into her backpack. Idly, as she stood from her chair and shrugged on her jacket, she listened to the usual hubbub of conversation that always occurred when they were released. Professor Hamada always made the effort to call out to the students as they left, ever since the very first class. Gradually, once the students settled into the rhythm of this class, they had picked up the same habit.

Hiro called out and wished Amy luck on her English test she had later, and Amy replied that she felt much better about _that_ test than this one, which made the teacher smirk. He turned and added to Mark that he did well in the basketball game on Tuesday, and asked in a quip why he'd had time to practice for that, but not turn in last class' assignment. Alice asked Hiro if was going to the Rugby game that night, and he said he wasn't, but would now. She smiled as she turned and left, and Hiro did the same. It was always like that, and it was something that made the class worth it, in Abigail's opinion. Well— the lectures and the information was amazing. But it was hard. At least they knew that even if they made a mistake, or struggled, their teacher wouldn't hold it against them. That he actually cared, unlike Professor Shelly in the Art Department, who, from day one, had said that she would never excuse absences, "even if someone dies."

She turned and started for the door. She had an hour between classes, and if she didn't stop to eat, she wouldn't have a chance to until five. However, she was stopped short before she could get close to the threshold. "Abby." She halted and spun around at once, when Hiro called out to her. Immediately, she bit down on her bottom lip. He was still standing at his desk, and at the last few kids brushed past Abigail and out into the hall, he cleared his throat a bit. "Could you hang back for a second?" he asked, noticeably more reluctant. "Unless you've got a class, of course."

"No, I…no, I don't have one soon," she said quickly. She offered an awkward grin before she came back over, to linger in front of his desk. She gripped one strap of her bag tightly. "Is there…something wrong?"

Hiro shook his head. "No, no, not at all," he reassured with haste. "No, I…I've been wanting to say something for a while. To you." Abigail's expression drooped in a frown, though she kept looking at him expectantly. He took in a slow breath to collect himself. "I…hope that we didn't get off on the wrong foot, and I apologize if…you know, if we did." He hadn't said much to her at all since that first day. It wasn't that she minded, really. He was still friendly, and approachable. Though she would be lying if she said that she didn't feel an awkward gap between them. She knew about it all, of course. Everyone at school did. Nobody said it outright; nobody even addressed it at all, this entire time.

So suddenly, the awkwardness was tripled, in this moment.

"Oh— oh, no, I…no, it's fine!" she rushed, glancing down at the ground. "No, I…I understand, I mean— no, it's fine." Hiro stared at her silently, his eyebrows pulled together just a little bit. It looked as if he was strained, and the student instantly felt riddled with guilt over the fact that she was the root cause of that. Professor Hamada was the nicest teacher she _had_. He was probably the nicest teacher on _campus_ , though she hadn't met his brother herself. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin that. "I get it. Really, and I don't mind! Thank you, though, I mean— for apologizing. Even though you don't have to. But no. It's okay." She trilled with a nervous laugh. She waved it away. "Really. I didn't think twice about it."

Hiro smiled just a bit, though there still seemed to be something in the back of his eyes as he looked at her. He nodded once. "Alright, then," he said, sounding a touch more relieved. "If you're sure. I didn't…you know, I didn't want you to think I didn't want you in class. I want everyone here— no matter what." Even if that 'what' happened to be what _this_ was. There was a small bout of silence, before Hiro straightened with a small cough and smiled again. That weird smile that didn't reach his eyes enough. "I'll see you Friday, then!" he said. "Bright and early for your first test. You prepared enough for it?"

She brightened. "I think so," she said. "At least I hope so! I've got to keep my grades, otherwise I'll lose my scholarship…"

"Hm?" Hiro glanced at her with interest, turning and setting his things away in his case as he did. "Scholarship? I'm not surprised— your first couple of assignments have been great. How much did you get, if you don't mind me asking? Some kids around here deserve way more than they actually get, in my opinion."

"Oh, no…" She grinned in a bit of embarrassment. "I actually— I got a full ride scholarship, here. It's why I chose this school. That, and the program, I mean…but the money was the biggest factor." Her teacher's movements slowed and stuttered. He looked up from his case, his expression a little bit hard to read. She reached up and tucked her hair back again, and the movement didn't seem to escape his attention, either. "So…yeah, I hope I do well."

He pasted a smile on his face. "I'm sure you will," he reassured her, a bit softly. "Don't worry about it. My tests are…pretty straightforward."

"Good." Abigail grinned. She paused a moment, and then offered a getaway. "Thank you, Professor. I appreciate it a lot. And, don't worry, this is my favorite class. I really love it." He smiled again and nodded. She adjusted her backpack on her shoulder. "I'll see you Friday." Hiro echoed the phrase, that same wilted smile still on his face. She turned on her toe and made out for the hallway.

Hiro turned and watched her go, feeling a certain and familiar sort of weight pressing down to constrict his chest, and his lungs. He didn't make a move to keep packing up. Rather, he stayed put where he was, his expression crumbling a bit as he turned and looked around the classroom. Aimless, as if he was searching for an answer to something.

Predictably, he didn't get anything of the sort. All he could recall was another young girl with brown hair, her eyes just as bright and excited as she proclaimed: "Full ride scholarship!" Hiro's expression was fuzzy and distant.

He blinked slowly. Just once. Then turned and began to pick up his things again. Motions stiff and robotic.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Is this allowed?"

The voice was small and a little hesitant in speaking. Hiro blinked, not having to look up to know which student had spoken, and for the briefest of moments, his eyes flashed. But when he looked up, from where he was sitting cross-legged on the table, there was nothing on his face but a large smile. Abigail was lingering with the rest of her classmates, looking a little apprehensive as she stared his way. Like every other student, she was holding a small robot in her hands, which they had been told to craft in preparation for today.

It had been their first-ever assignment involving actually creating a robot. They had worked up to this stage all semester, and so far, structure-wise, Hiro was impressed, and had said as much. Functionality-wise…that was what they were here to test. It was the other half of their grade, and given that they were nearing winter break, it was a rather important grade. It was their Final, basically. They had gone down to the Commons, down to the food court to wait. The area was cleared and roped off; no other students save for those in the robotics program were allowed inside. As per usual.

When he looked up from the table he was perched on a ways away, Hiro was aware of the fact that he had to make a conscious effort to grin at the student, and to keep his voice upbeat when he spoke. "Sure, it's allowed," he reassured her instantly. "We do this every semester. For the introductory course, at least. It's always the best part. You should wait until you reach Term Three, though." He added this a bit more mischievously. "Then we get into some real trouble. Had to sweet-talk my way into things like these, but let's just say me and the Dean usually always come to an agreement on things." He winked, with a small smirk.

He was aware of the class staring at him, though, and so he cleared his throat, looking back down at his hands. He had swiped a straw from the centerpiece of the table he was currently using as a seat, and he was twisting it back and forth between his fingers. "We're waiting for the other class to show up," he drawled, a little more emphasis put on these words. "They're always late— he knows it irritates me." He made a face, and glanced once more over at the door. "Once they get here, then you'll pair off and put your robots to the test."

"Why can't we pair off right now?" another student asked. Hiro was pretty sure his name was Alex. Not sure enough to actually try out the name, but he was pretty sure.

"That wouldn't be fun!" Hiro objected, making a face. "It's more fun to do it this way! We get to show up the other class, when we look at which group had the most wins!" The kids brightened up a little bit at the idea, turning and exchanging a few nervous smiles. He was acutely aware of when Abigail looked down and shuffled her feet, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

She had gotten it cut, recently. It was short.

He coughed again in the back of his throat and looked back at the door. His voice was a bit quieter when he added: "Or at least, it should be fun. Won't be much fun if you guys don't come out on top— I'll lose fifty bucks." Before any of his students could react, he scowled, raising his voice and grumbling louder: "Where in the _world_ is—" He couldn't finish the question. Before he could, the double doors were pushed open, and the other class filed in. They were all grinning widely, and they all looked pretty confident. A smile of his own began to tease its way over Hiro's face at the prospect of competition. However, the smile solidified when he saw Tadashi walk after his students.

"He-e-ey!" Hiro crowed, leaning back a little bit on his perch. Tadashi turned, smirking as his eyes landed on him. And, stuffing his hands down into his pockets, the elder of the two veered over to meet him. "Look who decided to _show up_!" Hiro went on loftily. "Hate to break it to you, bro, but you can't delay the inevitable. Just because you showed up late, doesn't mean your class won't lose. My kids are ready to _go_! Their robots are all fit to _kill_."

Tadashi was nodding slowly. When he stopped at Hiro's table, he threw his brother a pointed look. "Curb your enthusiasm, knucklehead," he objected fairly. "Just because _you_ won last year, doesn't mean you will this year. My kids know what's on the line. And besides," he added in a smaller interjection. He lifted one hand to the side of his mouth, faking a whisper that really just made him more audible. "My class had a higher average on the last test." At this, Hiro's class all took their turns at either resentment, or nervousness. Tadashi's class, on the other hand, just swelled up more.

Hiro had never met this particular group of kids, but he was making the executive decision not to like them.

He responded to the gentle reminder by lifting the straw up to his lips, having shimmied the wrapper far enough down. And, without warning, he puffed out a sharp exhale, the paper shooting forward to poke Tadashi directly in the eye. His brother immediately yelped, rubbing at his face with disbelieving laughter. "We'll take that as a challenge," Hiro chirped coolly. "And by the _way_ , the tests weren't _identical_." He raised his eyebrows and pointed forward, catching his brother in the chest once he'd straightened. "And those tests don't _count_ , either," he added. "Mercury was in retrograde. Entirely not their fault."

Tadashi chuffed, shaking his head. "You're a mess," he grumbled, affection underlying the initial layer of irritation. "And Mercury was _not_ —"

"Bot Fighting!" Hiro yelled, turning and leaping off the table, to his feet before Tadashi could finish. He clapped his hands and rubbed them together eagerly. "You all know the drill! You've been briefed on it, you've prepared for it, and you've _worked_ for it! You guys are going to pair off with whoever you think your robot will do better with! And then one by one, you're going to face-off! Don't worry— even if you lose, that doesn't mean you'll fail the assignment. Just do your best; your robot will be graded based on how well it performs. So, I mean…guess it doesn't _hurt_ to win." It also didn't hurt to win fifty dollars.

"Hop to it!" Tadashi encouraged, waving a hand quickly. "Find someone from the other class! We should have an even number. Decide on the order— you all are in college, you figure it out. We'll be grading as you perform." Hiro leaned back against the table, watching with a small smile as the kids immediately took to the orders. They split up, friends leaving other friends to find someone new that they could hopefully take down. The class had been buzzing for weeks over this project. Their first opportunity to actually get to work and show something. Hiro was just as excited.

"How's your class been going recently?" Tadashi asked, quieter as he watched the kids mill about too.

"Mine?" Hiro echoed, perking. He smiled. "Yeah, they're doing great, still. It's a good start. I'll be more interested in seeing what they do further along. Term One is always a little harder to get through. It gets more fun down the line— where the kids that really wanna stay, stay, and they work hard. Term Five is my favorite." By then, kids weren't taking _anything_ but classes dealing with robotics. They were the more intensive classes, too, but also with more freedom. At the moment, his Term Five class was crushing it. They were drowning in their newest project, and every day Hiro had to listen to the same complaining and had to look at the same half-hearted glares…but they were crushing it.

"How about yours?" Hiro asked. "How's Term Three going?" The classes were split between the two of them. Since the beginning of the program obviously held a lot more students than would remain there at the very end, they each had a Term One class— an introductory class. They also each taught the Term Two class, which was a bit sparser in comparison to the first, but was still pretty full with those stragglers that really didn't get that they should just give up already. Tadashi took Term Three, while Hiro taught Term Four and Term Five. Tadashi took the role of Academic Advisor, which Hiro didn't deal with, considering he taught a whole extra class. The top class, at that.

Hiro enjoyed rubbing it in his face a few times, but at the moment he was genuinely curious.

"They're good," Tadashi sighed, smiling in contentment. "A little shaky with their Final next week, but you know. What are you going to do? I offer them office hours."

Hiro mumbled a little bit in acknowledgement. His attention was wavering currently, and his eyes were being drawn to the side. Abigail had paired off with a boy from Tadashi's class, and she was currently in conversation with him— probably asking whether he cared what order they went in. There was a nervous smile on her face, and her shoulders shook with suppressed laughter as her head tilted up to the left. The small movement caused Hiro to stiffen just a little bit, and he crossed his arms, glancing down at the ground.

Tadashi, of course, was instantly aware of the situation. He frowned, and his eyes narrowed just a little bit in thought as he looked from Hiro, to the girl. "Is that…her?" he asked, this time much quieter. Hiro did not react to the question at first— his eyes were a little distant and far away. He wasn't paying attention; it was clear that he was focused on something else entirely— something beyond even this room. The look on his face was haunting to Tadashi, and so he reached over and put a hand down on his shoulder, his eyes wide and anxious now. "Hiro," he said, in the smallest bit of a snap. "Hiro!"

Hiro roused, as if he'd been shaken out of a dream. He turned and looked at him, blinking a bit fast. "What?" he asked, sounding a bit dumb. After he took a moment to scrounge himself together again, he shook his head to clear it. "Oh." He cleared his throat and reached up to rub at his forehead. "Yeah. It is." He'd told Tadashi about it the moment he'd had the chance. The night after the semester had started. He'd been strung-out unnecessarily, asking what he could do, as if he had a choice as to who he taught. As if there was a way out of a situation that he was already making too much of a deal with by being upset in the first place.

Tadashi's eyes flickered over to her as well. They flashed a bit at the sight of her— he hadn't seen her himself yet, but sure enough, she did resemble Abigail Callaghan, like Hiro had said. He'd thought that his little brother had been exaggerating; which would still be a warranted reaction in his case, but at least it would be clear that it wasn't as bad as he'd said. But no; she had the short brown hair, and she had on glasses as well. She was on the smaller side, just like Abigail had been in every picture Tadashi had seen. There were some differences, of course— she had many more freckles, and there was a small gap in between her two front teeth. But no. He could see the problem. The problem that went far beyond just the name, and the problem that Hiro had spoken of ever since the first day.

He looked back at Hiro, concern evident in every crevice of his face. Like he always got with things like this. With reminders. Reminders that could prove to push Hiro backwards into things that were better left forgotten. "Are you okay? With it?" he whispered, taking a smaller step closer. Hiro closed his eyes in a grimace, but Tadashi wasn't about to stop. "Hiro, if you want, I could talk to the Dean," he murmured. "I could figure something out— I could switch her over to my class. I could take her until Term Three— and who knows, maybe she wouldn't even make it to Term Four or Five! Maybe she—"

"She's _great_ at this stuff," Hiro growled, his façade of disregard beginning to crack. His eyes were narrowed, and he was stiff as he curled his hands into a ball. It was just another thing about her that inflicted something akin to physical pain. So his voice was bitter as he shook his head and looked down hard at the floor. "There's no way she won't get through the program without flying colors." He gritted his teeth tight enough to cause his head to swim and ache. "No. I don't want to shuffle her around; it's not like that wouldn't be the most obvious thing in the world. And even if we did, I would still end up with her regardless. There's no _point_."

Tadashi wilted. His expression flickered over with a little bit of weakness. "Hiro, you shouldn't have to—"

"I'm a _teacher_ ," Hiro growled, harder this time. He looked up from the ground, and his eyes were narrowed as he glared straight ahead. His gaze remained distant, as if he was looking through everything, rather than at it. "I am a teacher at this institute, and I am here to teach. It don't matter what I think or what I feel, my job is to teach these kids, and that's what I'm going to do, regardless of anything else. I knew what I was getting into when I took this job. I knew what I was getting into when I chose here to work. I knew what I was getting into, and it was just a matter of time before something like this happened. So no, Tadashi, I don't want your help with any of it. Because I don't need help."

"This has never been easy for you," Tadashi hissed. "I've admired you for what you've chosen to do for so long, but Hiro, you don't have to do it like this if you can avoid it. There's a point when it becomes too much. There's a line you can't cross. Okay? And…I think you've bitten off more than you could chew. With _all_ of this. And I think with this girl, you really need to stop and think about yourself for once. You need to…realize you can't _handle_ all of this. Not all the time." He tightened his grip on Hiro's shoulder just a little bit. "Hiro, if you can't even manage to say her name, how in the world can you—?"

"Alright!" Hiro shouted. He jerked away from Tadashi, taking his shoulder back to himself. And Tadashi watched with a weighted and worried expression as Hiro pasted a fake smile onto his face, forcing himself to brighten up as he addressed the students again. He took a few hops forward, and clapped his hands together again. "Who's first? Who thinks they can wow me and Sad Sally over here?" A pair from the corner rushed forward, a kid from each class who both looked more than ecstatic at the chance to jump at fighting. Hiro grinned. "Al _right_! Dunno about you, Tadashi, but I know Yuri, here!" he chirped, indicating his student, who was usually the one who scored near the top ten percent. "I'd watch out with you."

Tadashi stayed put where he was, his expression still drawn and worried. For a moment, he refused to move— he just stared intently at his brother, his eyes crowded with far too many thoughts and old fears. His eyes flickered over once more to Abigail, who was still standing with her chosen partner. She was watching eagerly, with a small smile on her face. Tadashi's eyes flashed over, and he glanced down at the floor. He pushed himself away from the table. Straightened and pushed away the thoughts, however hard it was to accomplish.

He walked over to Hiro. Glanced at him in apprehension one last time, and remembered another version of him. A version of him that had frightened Tadashi and mortified Aunt Cass, and had taken forever to be able to change from. The version he dreaded coming back. But he knew that he could not press the point— especially in front of the kids. Hiro was right, in one aspect: they had a job to do. So he sucked in a sharp breath and adopted his fake smile.

"Alright," he said, pushing an upbeat tone as best he could as well. "Let's see what you've got!"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"See you all Friday. Have a good day," Hiro called, like he always did at the end of every class. He exhaled as he turned and set the marker down, eyeing the whiteboard and its notes with a sense of satisfaction. At least he could have a break now; he would be able to stop and take a breath and maybe relax before he had to do anything else. He was tutoring a student later on in the afternoon, but other than that his day was normal and scheduled. Which was good. It was always hard for him to stay motivated when it was getting warmer outside, and he was coped up in here all day. Mostly he was just tired.

He turned, stifling a yawn and already anticipating his rush out into the hall. But he stopped short, freezing as he realized that there was still a student hanging back. One that hadn't even stood up yet. His heart sank, and instantly, as he looked at Abigail, Hiro felt a wave of despair. She was still in her chair; her head was hanging down to look at her table. At the test that Hiro had just handed back before dismissing his kids. He knew the grade that was looking back at her. He figured that was what was causing her hesitation.

Guiltily, for a second, he was tempted to ignore her and leave anyway. He almost _did_. He was _tired_ , and he really just wanted to go home, in all honesty. The absolute _last_ thing he wanted was to speak to this girl. He _always_ avoided doing so, if he could. So he almost took the out. But he couldn't— he knew he couldn't. Regretfully, he set his bag back down on his desk and turned, putting his hands down into his pockets as he started over to her. "Hey, Abby," he said, a bit gently. "What's up? Something wrong?"

Her shoulders curled forward a bit. She reached up and rubbed at her eyes, and Hiro realized that she was crying. "I…I did bad," she croaked out, the three words coming pathetic. Her lower lip trembled, and she cleared her throat a bit. It didn't do much, because her words were still clenched and choked. The attempt was there nonetheless. "I don't know what went wrong. I don't know what's _going_ wrong. Every test we've had this semester, I've done horrible. I don't know why. I don't think I should be in this program anymore." Hiro's face fell at this. "I'm not good enough."

Briefly, in the back of his mind, Hiro recalled what Tadashi had said. How she might not make it through the program to begin with, and he could be rid of her that way. This was it, wasn't it? She was beginning to break down, only halfway through this first stage. This was what most kids started to crack— the latter half of Term One was harder than the first half; it always shocked the students who were unprepared, and woke them up a bit more. She wasn't the only kid that was thinking this by this point, Hiro was sure of it. But he was also sure of what he had said to Tadashi before. So when the thought of her leaving crossed his mind, and the relief he would find because of it, Hiro instantly shoved it down. Instead, a worn smile came over his face.

"Abby, you're not bad at this," he objected. "Look— it's an eighty. Okay? I know it's not the A's and the hundreds that you were getting last semester, but the tests are going to get harder as we go on. Each semester is going to get harder, and you're going to have to just practice until you get into the swing of things. Nobody is really in that great of a place right now in terms of grades, but this is only our second test so far. And you know that these aren't worth as much as projects are. You know I'll give you guys some chance for extra credit." She sniffed, unaffected. "You're not the worst kid in here, Abby, trust me. You're nowhere close— I can promise you that much."

"But I'm still not _good_ ," she huffed, scrubbing at her face again. "I'm not good at any of this anymore. Ever since this semester started; I can't seem to wrap my head around any of it, and I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I feel really stupid, and I feel like every day I just get more confused and even stupider." Hiro stared at her now, silent as he simply listened. She shook her head and wilted. "I just keep thinking that after all this, I shouldn't be in this anymore. I feel like I should stop dragging this out. I should just stop…"

Hiro paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. After contemplation, he sighed, turning and grabbing one of the nearby chairs. He dragged it up and sat down, clasping his hands together and leaning forward. He forced himself to look at her directly, and he raised his eyebrows just a bit. "Hey. Listen to me. Alright?" he asked, as Abigail turned and looked at him apologetically. " _You_ cannot give up. Hm? There's no giving up. Okay? It might feel like you have no idea what you're doing right now, and you might feel like you're completely alone, and you might feel like you can't trust yourself. After— after these two test grades," he added, turning and pointing at the one of them that was there. "But they're just _two_ test grades. One hundred points in total out of more than a possible thousand. M'kay? You're overthinking it. You're _always_ overthinking things, when you start thinking like this, take it from me."

Abigail looked back down at her paper. The frown was still on her face. "But I'm no good," she protested weakly. "If it's just going to get harder, I'm not going to be able to keep up with it. I'm not going to be able to get through it all like I need to." She closed her eyes at this, wincing away from the fact.

Hiro's eyes flashed. His fingers curled a little tightly, and he began to feel a small tug in the bottom of his stomach. He shook his head, and his voice got a bit sterner almost when he replied. "It'll get harder, I can promise you that. It certainly won't get any easier. At all. But you know what? You can do it. You can always do more than you think you can— always. You _always_ surprise yourself. But if you give up now, and if you stop yourself before you can go any further, then you'll never surprise yourself. And you'll never be able to get to the other side and look back and know you did great."

Abigail blinked a few times. She turned and looked at him a little blankly. At the look that was on his face, she seemed to sober and gain a sense of understanding. Hiro stared at her steadily for a moment or two, silent as his words merely hung in the classroom. After a second, though, his face fell a bit, and he blinked a few times, coughing as he looked down at the test. He reached over and scooted it closer to her. "About the test," he mumbled. "Getting through the test— the program. You just have to get through it. I know you can. Okay?" His words were a little more clipped now.

She hesitated. But after a moment, a small smile wormed over her face. She seemed to brighten with a little bit of gratefulness. "Okay," she murmured. Hiro watched her regain her mood, and he tried to ignore the hint of dimples she had, just like Abigail would get whenever Hikaru had said something she'd found hilarious. "Thank you, Professor," she said. "I appreciate it."

He gave a singular nod. He pushed away from the table and stood up. "And I can help you," he offered, his voice a bit stiffer now, in comparison to what it had been before. "If you come to my office during office hours. I can always clarify things you're not sure of." The words tasted bitter to force out— to offer even more time to dispose in her company. It made him feel awful and horrible, for the thought, but it was true, and that fact alone did not help.

He was horrible; he was an awful teacher.

Abigail warmed with gratitude again. "Thank you," she repeated. "I might." She sniffed again, and, wiping at her eyes a bit more and offering one last word of thanks, she stood as well. She grabbed her test and shrugged her backpack over her shoulder. She gave Hiro another smile. "Have a good night, Professor. I'll see you Friday," she wished, in response to his goodbye from before. Hiro just nodded, wordless as he watched her go.

He had been so eager to leave earlier, but as Abigail left the room and the door shut behind her with a click, he didn't move.

He just stood and stared, his expression emptied out and hollow.

Friday's class was cancelled. The notice came in an email from Hiro, which was uncharacteristically short and to the point, for him. It didn't say much. It said that he was feeling sick, and simply could not make it to class. He said that the kids could either have the classroom to study, or they could simply sleep in— he didn't care. And that was it. Two simple sentences, and nothing else at all. It was odd, because he had not seemed sick or complained last class. It was an onset of something, Abigail guessed. She was just glad to have the day to catch up on things, and so she did wake up in the morning to get to class. She figured having an empty room to read the textbook would be just what she needed to catch back up.

However, she was sorely mistaken. To Abigail's utter shock, when she found her way to the classroom, she found that nearly the entire rest of the class was already there. They were not seated either, and they certainly were not studying. Crossing the threshold of the door and shutting it soundlessly behind her, Abigail's expression wrote over with confusion as she realized that they were all clustered around the teacher's desk, craning their necks to look at the computer there. A video was playing. Inching closer with that same uncertain look, Abigail tried to listen and pick out what was the source of their interest.

"I wish this could have ended differently. I really wish it could have." It was a voice that sounded familiar, in some type of way. Abigail skirted through the small throng of kids, trying to see the screen. "Because this isn't what anyone wanted. It's not what I wanted." Abigail stopped, her eyes widening a bit as she finally found a spot where she could see things, and she connected the dots. They were watching the video of that sentencing trail. The voice had sounded so familiar because it was their teacher's— just much more choked, and a little younger. He was standing in the middle of a court room, looking small in some classy suit. His eyes were red, and tears were falling down his face as he spoke. His hands, gripping together a small stack of papers, were shaking. The look on his face was heartbreaking, as he had turned and looked to Robert. Softly, he ended with a blunt: "It's certainly not anything she would have wanted, either."

"Damn," one of the other kids – Jackson – muttered. "He straight up _roasted_ that guy."

"Grow up," Amy snapped, shooting him a glare. "It's _sad_. It's _really_ sad."

Abigail drew into herself a bit, watching as the younger Hiro took in a shaking breath, cringing and ducking his head a bit before ending with a tiny: "Thank you." The video cut off, ending there. In the recommended list, there were tons of videos just like it. All with titles relating to Hiro. Thumbnails that showed their teacher— some of them happy, some of them sad, some of them too painful and awkward to really look at. Before she could stop herself, she asked, a little angrily: "Why are you guys watching these?"

"Why'd he cancel class today?" Jackson asked.

"Because he's _sick_?" Abigail answered, the sarcasm making it sound like it was more of a question. "People _get_ sick, you know, not everything about him is related back to this."

"Did you notice that?" Mark prompted, catching everyone else's attention as he leaned over and tapped the screen a few times. When nobody replied, he tapped the screen again. "He never said her name once— Abigail Callaghan's. That whole speech, all those, like, ten minutes. He talked about her a lot, but he never said her name." Silence met the words. Mark turned and looked at Abigail, who instantly stiffened defensively. "He _still_ won't say it, right? That first day, he asked if he could all you Abby. Ever since then, he has. He hasn't said Abigail _once_ , and it's been a little over half a year."

Abigail said nothing; she just stared at him uncomfortably.

"It's crazy," Yuri spoke up, where he was sitting over on one of their long tables. He had his phone out, and had been scrolling just a bit up until now. He must have found something of interest. "He was hospitalized for about a month afterwards, just to get a little bit over all the injuries he had. And then after _that_ he went to some mental hospital for nearly the same amount of time. Can you imagine that? A year…that's insane." He scrolled again, and made a face. "It's even more insane that he's even _here_."

"He works at the same school," Mark pressed, shaking his head and clicking on another video. "Works at the same school, he teaches the same subject, I'm pretty sure he even has the same _office_ that Robert Callaghan did. What the hell is he _doing_? What's that _for_?"

The video gave a good description of what the video would be about. It was one of those 'catching up' type of things. In this case, it was two years after Hiro's being found. The class watched the interview in silence. It was with some reporter that was probably out of work by now— nobody recognized her. But she had a kind smile, and her voice was bright when she asked Hiro how he was doing, and what life was like now, in being back with his family permanently now.

In this one, Hiro looked infinitely better than he did in the video at the trial. He looked much healthier, and much more like the way he did now. His hair looked longer, the way it was now. He wasn't wearing the glasses he had been wearing in the other video, either, and he was wearing a blue sweatshirt with the logo of their school on it. There was a bright smile on his face as he talked about being at home, and about how he was enrolled in school and taking eighteen credit hours. His voice was bright when he said that he had gotten his driver's license and that he had his own car for it. He recalled everyone's recent niceness, and claimed that he was more than happy at the moment. That things couldn't be better.

"And school?" the reporter revisited, a bit gently.

Hiro gave an awkward laugh. He shifted in the chair he was sitting in, and, with a series of nods, brought his legs up a bit closer to himself. "Yup," he exhaled. "It's fun. I like it. I'm good at it. To an extent, I guess…"

"It's an odd choice," she pressed. "To go there. To have the major that you do."

His smile wavered a bit. But he kept on nodding. "Yup," he repeated. "…Yup."

"Could you maybe…say why?" she asked. "Maybe explain a bit of your thoughts?" He bit down on his lower lip, seeming to be thinking. He didn't answer, and so she continued on. Her voice was gentle, but it was clear that it was still digging in at Hiro as if he was yelling. "Why go to _that_ school, Hiro? Where he worked every day?" Hiro reached up and drew a hand through his hair, messing it up a bit. "Why go where he was, and why follow the same career path? Was it intentional?"

Hiro paused. He stared off to the side, his stare a bit weak and strained now. Eventually, he shrugged. He kept looking off in one direction, not meeting her stare, or looking at the camera. When he did reply, his voice was soft and barely more than whisper. He sounded much more deflated than he had before. "Because…that's what I would have done…if nothing had happened," he attempted a bit weakly. "If…things hadn't happened the way they had…I would have made the same choices." He took a moment, drawing in a slow breath. He looked down and rubbed his hands over his jeans, looking uncomfortable. "I…I didn't want to change just because…of that."

"That's very admirable," she offered. "But it sounds like it would be very hard." In a lower voice, she murmured: "Is it hard, Hiro…?"

The younger version of their professor continued to duck away. His eyes grew misty, and his shoulders curled forward a bit more. He stared in silence for almost a full thirty seconds. Then he swallowed, and he shook his head. His voice came out small and pathetic. He offered no more elaboration, other than a tiny: "Sometimes."

Abigail leaned over and grabbed the mouse, clicking the video and pausing it. "We shouldn't be looking at this," she said, her voice sounding too loud and too stiff, in the wake of the upsetting footage. Sure enough, the other students around her were beginning to look just as uncomfortable. "We shouldn't be looking at this," she repeated, harder now. "Exit out of this— this isn't right."

"What's the problem with it?" Mark snapped. "We're just curious."

"If he wanted us to know about this, he would talk to us about it," Abigail snapped back. "It's wrong to go snooping into someone's business like this. Especially when it's as bad as this. We're supposed to be studying here— not looking up YouTube videos of our teacher when he was going through what was probably the worst thing in his entire life. He doesn't owe us any kind of explanation at all, he's our _professor_." Everyone knew the basic story, of course. It was hard _not_ to. But finite details— that wasn't as well-known. And it felt wrong to dig them all out. "It's wrong, it's—"

"Does your family really call you Abby?" Jackson piped up, before she could finish. She stuttered a second, looking at him in confusion. He offered a shrug. "That first day, you told him it was okay he called you Abby because that was your nickname. But is it really? Or did you just tell him that because you knew?"

She shifted. Hesitated. But eventually, she offered a small: "No. No, I…I don't have it as a nickname. I just said that."

He nodded. Shrugged again. "It must be weird," he said, turning and start to walk away from the computer.

She watched him go, that defensive look returning. "What must be weird?" she asked.

He glanced at her over his shoulder. "The whole thing," he explained, gesturing to her a bit openly. "The fact that he can't even say your name, because you remind him of her. It's gotta be horrible, right? For him, mostly, but for you, too. It's weird. You have her same hair and stuff, too. I dunno. I would just think it would be weird."

She was silent. Her grip on her backpack tightened uncomfortably, and she glanced down at the ground.

Amy offered her a sympathetic look, and touched her shoulder gently. "Don't worry about them," she pressed. "I'm sure he doesn't mind. He's _great_. He's the best teacher on campus— he's the best teacher this place has ever had. And he cares about all of us, a lot. _All_ of us."

Abigail looked at her a little gratefully, and gave her a smile. Amy matched it before she turned and headed for the door. The group was slowly breaking up, under the growing tension. Finding that it was better to stop things here. At least all together in one room. They turned and began to leave one by one. Abigail stayed put, though, her stare heavy and guilty as she stared at the screen. At the still-paused image of their professor, curled up and stressed, and far too burdened. A frown weighed itself over her face as she looked at him.

After a moment, feeling heavy, she grabbed the mouse again and pressed the red X in the corner. She wiped away the video from the screen, so that all that was left was the desktop background.

But even though the image of the video disappeared from the screen, it stayed burned in the back of her mind.

. . . . .

It took five rings for Hiro to pick up. When he did, the strained feeling in Tadashi's chest loosened. He was sitting at his desk, having just said goodbye to his 8:00 AM class. It was a Wednesday, and he still had not seen Hiro. In the parking lot outside, he could not see his car, either. He wasn't here. Again. So he'd called, and when Hiro didn't answer immediately, panic began to set in. Panic rooted in awful memories of slamming forcibly into a bathroom, screaming in shock and alarm at the sight of a limp body on the tile. But he eventually did answer in the smallest of mumbles, and Tadashi instantly slouched in relief.

"Hey, knucklehead," he said, already knowing that his voice was far too peppy and soft to remain low-key. He went on anyway, though, not too worried about going unnoticed. Hiro _should_ know how worried he was. "You're going to be late for your first class if you're not already on your way," he chided. "You cancelled their last class, Hiro, you can't cancel this one too."

Silence filled the classroom, as he listened to Hiro on the other end. His expression weakened at how small the voice sounded. At how quiet, and how splintered. But he took in a slow breath, and shook his head. "You're not sick, Hiro," he objected steadily. "You're not sick, and you need to get out of bed, okay? Because you've got students here to work with, and you know that they'll fall behind if they can't see you every day. So you've got to get up." There was a force to the words. A sternness. "Get out of bed, Hiro."

Another pause. Another pang of sorrow and regret from Tadashi.

"No. Nope. No. You've just got to get up. Drag yourself out of bed, put something on, and just get over here. I don't care what you wear, you've just got to get here. You've just got to get moving. You can't just lay there and feel sorry for yourself, okay?" It was a little harsh. But it was what was needed. It was what was _always_ needed, when this happened. "You've _established_ what that does to you, and you've told me over and over to _never_ let you do this. So here I am."

Silence. Tadashi closed his eyes and hunched forward, burying his face down into his free hand. His voice was losing its hardness quickly, by the time he got to speak again. "Hiro, you can't keep doing this to yourself. You can't. I know it hurts, and I know it gets like this sometimes, but please. Just get out of bed. Please?"

…

"Don't play that card, Hiro, just don't," Tadashi pressed weakly. "You know I'm just trying to help you. I'm not saying that—"

…

"Hiro, no. _No_. If you don't get out of bed _right now_ and come over here, I'm— I'm calling Aunt Cass, and she's going to come over there. Okay? There. I said it." It was the last trick he had up his sleeve. Aunt Cass was always especially fragile with these sorts of episodes, so Tadashi was usually the one to handle them. He rarely told Aunt Cass about days like these at all, she would get so strung-out. But he was at work, and Aunt Cass could call off easier than he could. She would go and help— at the very least, she would go and make sure Hiro was alright, and that he wasn't going to do anything rash.

Predictably, he had to shut his eyes against his brother's reaction. He winced a bit away from the phone, but he knew that Hiro didn't mean it when he lashed out. He hardly meant anything he said when he got like this. He wasn't about to hold it against him. It was hard, Tadashi knew. Impossibly hard. Hiro would go for weeks and sometimes even months on end bright and happy, and completely head-over-heels in love with all that life had to offer to him. Sometimes even overly so. Every so often, he just…tripped— stumbled a little.

He would slam into a wall, and fall into a pit that he had to claw his way out of. Tadashi was able to help most times, and be there with him. He would always sit with him and try and to help rip painful memories off of his chest so that Hiro could breathe better, and come back to himself. He couldn't at the moment, but he was determined not to let his brother suffer through it alone. For he was sure that, right at this very moment, Hiro was curled up tightly underneath the covers of his bed, his room completely dark as he simply laid there and stared vacantly into space. No— he _had_ to tell Aunt Cass. He would go to Hiro after his classes were wrapped up, but until then, someone needed to be with him.

To remind him that he wasn't alone. To remind him he wasn't in that basement.

So he hung up on Hiro before his brother could yell at him even more. And he dialed Cass' number with a heavy heart.

. . . . .

Monday, and Hiro was back. He seemed paler than normal, and there were darker shadows under his eyes. He looked tired, and he certainly did not look very healthy, for his claim of having gotten over whatever bug he had caught. But he had a worn smile on his face as he sat, waiting for everyone to show up to class. He did not mill around the room, or roll back and forth in his rolling chair like he normally did. He didn't strike up cheery conversation either. If any student tried as much, he would meet their efforts with that same tired grin and offer something that wasn't nearly enough of a response.

"Professor, we missed you at the musical the other night," Airi called out from near the back. Hiro had told her the week before the date that he was certainly going to come; she had some starring role in the production, or something of the sort. "It went very well. We got a standing ovation!"

Hiro looked up from his desk and again gave that weary grin. "No way," he mused. "Good."

That was the end of that conversation. And as Airi's face fell a little awkwardly, nobody else was really in the mood to try their hand at it. Abigail kept her head down specifically, though it was a little weak of an effort, given that she was still in the front row. She just kept looking over past notes – with the cancelled classes, she felt as though she was all caught up, actually – and only peeked upwards when Hiro cleared his throat, to hint that class was starting. Only then he did stand up and make for the board. His steps were measured and a bit slow.

"Alright," he sighed, picking up the marker and uncapping it. "I…apologize for my absence," he stated first off, turning to look at the class with a guilty frown. "I…caught something, and couldn't really…get out of bed for a while, and I didn't want to get you all sick with it, either. So." He paused for a second, as if waiting for someone to call him out on the bluff. No one did. So he went on with another little exhale. "Uhm. I'm giving you all extra credit, for it. Ten points— it's not a lot, but it makes up for…any in-class stuff we would have done should I have been here. So. Don't worry about that."

He paused again. His head turned just slightly, and he ended up catching Abigail's gaze. His expression flickered for just the briefest of moments, in something between distress and exhaustion. But it was only a fraction of a second before he shook himself out of it and offered her a smile instead. That same tired one that didn't really reach his eyes. But it was there, nonetheless. Abigail offered her own grin, hers layered with a touch of guilt. The two meshed well together, in that sense. If only in that sense. And though the exchange was an obvious one, it was one that only lasted about two seconds.

Before Hiro sucked in a breath and did what he had been doing for what felt like forever.

He struggled to move on.

"So. Today's lecture…"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Term Two was easier than Term One. Paradoxical as it was. Or maybe she was just getting back into the swing of things, after a not-so-great semester. Abigail had ended with an A in it all, of course, but just barely— by the skin of her teeth. But so far, in the few short weeks of her sophomore year, Abigail was finding Term Two of the prestigious program far more enjoyable and easier to latch onto. They were going to have more projects. More interactive things. One less test than Term One had, by the end. It was looking up.

And yet she still was not at ease. In the back of her mind, every time she went to class, she was meaning to speak with Hiro. Because she had him again as a teacher. She thought it was a wonderful thing— she liked his teaching style, and she liked how he was friends with all the students. But at the same time…she'd no idea what _he_ thought about it. She'd been trying to get hints on his opinion all the time, but she was coming up short. Whenever she made to ask, either another student beat her to his time, or she simply chickened out. So, as she was walking out of the library, and making for what she was hoping to be a halfway-decent lunch, and she caught sight of Hiro walking a ways up through campus, she hesitantly turned and changed direction.

"Professor!" she called out, breaking into a small run to try and catch up. At first, he didn't seem to register _he_ was the one being called to. But as she got closer and yelled out one more time, he did spin around, his eyebrows raised. She slowed to a stop, walking the rest of the way and puffing a little bit. She adjusted her backpack and reached up to do the same to her glasses, which were a tad askew. "Professor, I wanted to talk to you, if I could," she requested hesitantly, her expression riddled with reluctance. "Are you…?"

She trailed off, her eyes lighting up a bit. A smile spread over her face. "You have a dog!"

It wasn't uncommon to see people walking their pets through their campus— it was a very pretty campus to go through, and very expansive. But she just never considered Hiro to be the type. But sure enough, there was dog at his side, strapped to a leash. It was an adorable, fluffy white one that, at the attention of someone new, seemed to hop up and down from foot to foot. Its tail was going a mile a minute, and it tugged on the leash a bit, to get closer. Hiro made a face, but laughed as he pulled her back, forcing her to be more obedient. "This is Nozomi," he sighed indulgently. "I don't really make a habit of bringing her all the way out here, but…it's a weekend, and I thought hey why not?" He blinked and looked back up at her. He gave her a warm smile. "What can I do you for, Abby?"

There was a sense of nervousness settled over her. She cleared her throat and messed with her hair. Hiro seemed to sober a bit. Without much warning, he asked in a flatter tone of voice: "You're not enrolled in a psychology class right now, are you?"

She perked, confusion coming over her. "Psychology?" she echoed, baffled. "N-No. No, I'm not. My question doesn't…have to do with that subject."

He breathed out a sigh of relief, rolling his eyes. "Thank God. Every autumn I have to hide from students taking it. I've _tried_ to explain to Professor Shockley time and time again that a project dealing with psychoanalyzing a person on campus of your choice is _not_ fair at all. She never listens. _So_ I have to spend lunch in my car to keep kids from chasing me." He was joking, by the inflection of his voice, though Abigail could tell at the same time he was also being honest. She cracked a grin and a small laugh, and Hiro seemed to be grateful for it. "Alright, then. Since you're _not_ in a psychology class, I'll make time for you."

She cleared her throat. "I…wanted to tell you— well, _ask_ you. If…I could switch classes."

He stilled, obviously surprised. Nozomi was still tugging on her leash, but Hiro just pulled her back to his side again. She huffed in annoyance. "Switch classes?" It was his turn to echo back in confusion. "Why? What's wrong? Do you not…like it? I thought you'd gotten the hang of things again. I was just starting to think you got it."

"No, no, I do!" she rushed quickly. Her hands began to wring in front of her. "I really love your class, and I love how fun it is too! I love that I learn things, but in a way that makes it seem like I'm not. And I like the fact it's so easy to make friends in there. And so easy to have fun." Hiro's head was tilted to the side as he looked at her oddly. "But…but I just think…it might be better…if I go to your brother's class instead." She closed her eyes in a wince. "I don't think I should be in your class. Uhm. I feel like things would just be easier if I switched."

Realization dawned over Hiro slowly. As well as the remorse and the guilt. "Abby, you shouldn't…don't think that you have to switch, okay? Because that's what you think, right?" She offered a hesitant nod. He responded with a shake of his head. He took a moment to contemplate before he spoke. "I know it's not the…easiest thing. And I'm probably not doing the best job of making it seem anything less. But…no, Abby, okay? I like having you in class— you're a very bright student, and I never have to worry about you. If you left, the class would certainly miss you."

She eyed him warily. Glanced down at the ground. "But…it would be easier," she objected.

"It wouldn't be any easier— trust me," Hiro shot down gently. "I don't hold anything against you, Abby. You can probably hold tons against me, for how things have been." He rubbed at his forehead. "I'm sorry. I really, really am. It's not fair to you. And I guess if you really want to switch, there wouldn't be a difference between the two. Just who's in the front of the room. And you _do_ style your own schedule, so I can't force you to stay in my room. So…if you want to go to Tadashi's class instead, you can. I can get it worked out for you." Despite the solution being there readily available, there was regret in his expression as he regarded her. He supposed he should have seen this coming, with how bad he'd been with it all. So his voice was a bit hesitant when he asked: "Is that what you want?"

She hesitated for a long moment. Messed with her hair again. "I think I should," she offered after a while.

Hiro repeated his question. "Is that what you _want_?"

Abigail paused. She took in a slow breath, and let it out. The first actual, real acknowledgement that either of them had given to the other. It had been between the two like a brick wall this entire time— this was just the first time she had indicated it outright. "I'm too much like _her_ ," she pointed out, in nothing but a little mumble.

Hiro stiffened just a little bit. He wondered how much she knew. It wasn't a hard thing to research. He wondered how much the entire _class_ knew. If one student didn't, there was an upperclassman who could spill all the beans, after all. However, at the same time, it didn't matter much. What did matter, was that the five words stabbed into Hiro, and left him aching and in pain. Again, his expression clouded over, and that same sense of exhaustion began to creep its way forward.

But he kept the smile on his face, however saddened it got to be from the words. He shook his head, and a small bubble of laughter worked its way up and out of his throat. Abigail looked up at the sound, her expression confused.

Hiro just offered his student an aimless shrug of the shoulders. "So am I," he said fairly.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: The other half of this chapter will be up fairly soon! It's much more interactive so far, if that's the correct word. I'm excited to finish writing it, and I hope you'll be happy to read it all! It'll probably answer a few questions you may have, if you do have a few questions with you. I hope you like where it's going, at the very least! And I will be sure not to let things go too long without the final installment.


	28. Epilogue - Part Two

A/N: I hope you like this final chapter of Bruises. Thank you so much for reading and staying with me throughout all this. I sincerely hope you like this last installment. Just because it is the last chapter, I'd like to leave a few songs I'd listened to over the course of writing this story. People have asked for such in the past, and especially with this first song, I used a lot of soundtracks to help structure and work through this story. If you'd like to listen, I think you'd see. Oddly enough, I used the first one the most. You can follow the plotline of Bruises throughout it, if you try. (Pst I didn't have time to edit this, I have work tomorrow and it's midnight, and this is twenty-nine pages, please be kind.)

' _I'm feelin' the world go 'round. It's spinning me upside down. I'm finally homeward bound, I'm not giving up. It's crawling under my skin, and I don't care if I sin, I really want it. I really want it. I really want it right now.'_ I Really Want It – Great Big World

' _You're alone, you're on your own. So what? Have you gone blind? Have you forgotten what you have, and what is yours? Glass half empty, glass half full, well either way you won't be going thirsty. Count your blessings, not your flaws. You've got it all. You lost your mind in the sound. There's so much more. You can reclaim your crown. You're in control, rid of the monsters inside your head. Put all your faults to bed. You can be king again.'_ – King, Lauren Aquilina

' _Hey, you know they're all the same. You know you're doing better on your own. So don't buy in. Live right now. Just be yourself. It doesn't matter if it's good enough for someone else.'_ – The Middle, Jimmy Eat World.

' _And I'm doing just fine. I'm always landing on my feet, in the nick of time and by the skin of my teeth. I ain't gonna stress, 'cause the worst ain't happened yet. Something's watching over me, like sweet serendipity. What will be will be, in the nick of time, and by the skin of my teeth. I ain't gonna stress, 'cause the worst ain't happened yet, something's watching over me like sweet serendipity.'_ Sweet Serendipity – Lee DeWyze

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"So if you'll look this up online, you'll see all the study objectives we have for the upcoming assessment, and you'll be able to see what I'm looking for in your next piece of work; you'll know what to focus on, and Seiko, I swear to _everything_ you hold sacred, if I see that phone _one more time_ , I am _going_ to chuck this marker straight at your face. It's just going to happen, and you're just going to have to deal with it." Hiro shot a warning glare to the back row, where the student guiltily sat up for about the third time this class. And the class was only fifty minutes long. "It's a good thing you don't seem to mind your last assignment grade, going by the way you're fooling around back there. C'mon. I don't like to be a stick in the mud, but I _also_ do not enjoy _failing_ students. I'm almost inclined to give you even more work, since you have so much time on your hands."

Seiko's expression wilted over in guilt at the admonishment. But that was the joy of having a professor like Hiro— you could recover quickly and spin things right back around. So she offered a bashful grin, and stuffed it away. "It's Halloween," she offered, the statement coming off light but also apologetic in respect to her mindlessness. "You can't give out extra work during a _holiday_."

Hiro wasn't all that impressed, it was clear, as he raised his eyebrows a bit. At first, he was tempted to ignore her. Any other professor probably would have deducted points off this next test, or pushed the extra work anyway. But he was wrapping up already. And she had a point. So he rolled his eyes and turned to the board, picking up an eraser and setting to work wiping away that day's notes. "It's _not_ Halloween," he quipped. "It is the day _before_ Halloween. But I'll give you a pass anyway. As long as you stop staring at your screen and stare at some notes instead."

He cleared his throat, raising his voice a little bit as he continued. "And _on_ the subject of Halloween, I do _not_ want to get to class Monday and find out something awful has happened to anyone in this room, okay?" He turned and eyed the students listening, with a certain kind of sternness. "Yeah?" he pressed, when nobody reacted at first. "I'm serious, guys— drink, do whatever you want, I couldn't care less, but just be _smart_ about it. Alright? Don't go driving off into the sunset thinking you'll be dandy. Or don't go wandering off somewhere, okay? Be safe. All that great stuff." He offered a grin. "Look both ways before you cross the street. Stay on the sidewalk."

He grinned and winked, to show that he was teasing. But the class still paused a little bit, those who could make the connection of what he was poking at looking a little off-kilter. There had been no acknowledgement of what had happened— not directly, between them and him. Of course there hadn't been, as much of a story as it was. Not that it was needed in terms of facts; a simple web search, and the story was there. Parents knew about it. Everyone had the facts. But facts were distinctly different than real face-to-face acknowledgement. If this was even counted as one. Because suddenly, their teacher, who hadn't once even mentioned the name 'Callaghan' seemed to be trying to make a _joke_.

A hand went up in the back of the room. Hiro looked over to see Amy, and he nodded encouragingly. Her stare was hesitant and curious; her voice was quiet when she spoke. "May I ask you a question? Professor?" she asked.

All eyes in the class were on her. Nobody seemed to breathe, just waiting for it.

Hiro's smile turned more brittle. It remained, but it was weak. "Is it about today's lesson? Or the test?" he asked, his voice overly-pleasant.

She slowly let her hand drift to the tabletop. "No," she replied, quiet.

He stared at her a moment. Silent. The class was staring at him, the intensity in their focus now a million times more than what they'd had during lecture. Because there were a million questions. Countless ones. And the tension in the room seemed to uptick a million degrees when he did reply to his student. "Go ahead," he allowed.

Giving in— he was giving in.

She stared at him, looking a bit nervous. "Have you heard? From him? Since then?" Hiro was immobile; for all he reacted to her, she might as well not have spoken. She immediately grew apologetic. It wasn't as if the whole class wasn't wanting answers, or wasn't seeking them themselves in the form of Google or YouTube videos of old news broadcasts. She was just the first of them to actually be brave enough to face it outright like this. Though at the moment she was really beginning to regret her move. "I mean…I don't…it's fine, you don't have to answer, I just thought…when you said…"

He coughed in the back of his throat, looking down and fiddling with his copy of the textbook, as if he was suddenly very interested in getting it perfectly lined up and straight. He could have dismissed her. He'd dismissed other kids that had asked before, and yes, of course he had been asked before. He'd been asked for information far too many times to count, in far too many different scenarios. But his eyes flickered inevitably over to Abigail, who was watching just as closely as everyone else, and he felt a strike of guilt hit him. It had been worse recently. He had allowed bias to take over him. He had missed classes, he had spent weekends holed up in his home, not even getting out of bed. He'd faked more smiles than he'd actually had.

He'd really let it get bad.

He couldn't let it _keep_ getting bad. Could he? The guilt was too strong. And if that meant…

He cleared his throat again. "You mean Robert?" he asked, very calm and very collected. The class froze; everyone could have been made of stone. The lack of response was response enough, though. So he took in a slow breath, his stare turning a little distant as he continued to mess with the things on his desk. He coughed once again before moving on. "I don't hear from him, no. Thankfully enough. He's not allowed to contact me. And I don't necessarily want to pop in for a brief hello." A smile teased onto his face, though it was one of something akin to exhaustion. "I've been tempted to. Every so often. Just to go there and show him he couldn't hold me back. But…something always seems to come up." This was a tease, but only half so.

He looked at his kids brightly, giving them a smile as if to reassure those who were feeling uncomfortable. Which was probably most of the room. It wasn't much at all, and it really just scratched the surface of other topics that were much more painful. Ones he wouldn't ever spend time in the classroom talking about, such as the reasons he kept his room so cold and wore only hoodies or long-sleeves. Why when the room was quiet when they were taking a test and someone coughed or a book fell, he would jerk in faint alarm. Those were more overt signs, though. People could deduce pretty much all the information themselves.

He figured it would be enough for now. He wasn't really inclined to address the matter at all; he was here to teach, not to recount things he had left in the past as best he could. If he had the choice, he would never speak of it ever, or draw it forward in the mind. Maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe he owed it, especially to this class, but mostly to himself, to be more upfront about it. It was a part of him, after all. And while it was classified under 'personal life' and should stay as such…was it really? With how it was? Did he have an obligation of sorts? It was confusing, and it was a toss-up. So he couldn't stop himself from feeling a small relief at the fact that nobody else was going to press him for more answers.

Or he did, until another hand went up. And he couldn't stop his heart from sinking a bit when he turned to meet Abigail's eyes reluctantly. He said nothing, just raised his eyebrows and waited. So, letting her hand fall back down, Abigail looked at him with a puzzled stare and asked: "Why choose to do this?" It had been a question that had been asked before, in interviews like the one they had watched in class long ago. It had never been expressed obviously enough, though. He had always been able to dance around the question, because of this. Because of the fact that the words were never chosen with enough care. "Why did you choose to work here? I know…that you love this subject, and you would have done something similar had…" She trailed off and cleared her throat, backtracking a bit. "But you didn't have to choose _this_ school to teach at. There are others. And…you didn't have to…take his office. You could have gotten another one, right? Another classroom to take?"

Hiro stared at her levelly, not even blinking at first, as he simply listened to her question. His face was blank. As he looked at Abigail— at the girl he couldn't even call by her first name, because of the man she was indicating at the moment. Because of the man he had taken everything after, in terms of his career, his rooms, his offices. He blinked, and looked back down at the desk. At the desk that had once been used by the man that nearly killed him, in far more ways than just one. His forehead creased, as if he too was wondering what on earth the answer could be.

But then his expression cleared, and he looked back up, a smile tracing over his face wearily. It did reach his eyes and light them up. It was only a little bit, but at the same time, it was still there. When he spoke, his voice was brighter— lighter with a dash of amusement. But only a dash. Because he _was_ tired of dancing around things. If only in a way. He was tired of making it seem like it was only for some sort of self-fulfillment. Because there _was_ another aspect to it. And maybe he just wanted to finally get it out to someone that wasn't Tadashi or Aunt Cass. Funnily enough how that one person would be Abby.

So he grinned and shook his head a little aimlessly. Turned to begin to gather up his things as he laughed a little bit under his breath. And he gave the answer that he knew carried a bit more of the truth with it. The answer that he preferred.

"Because it's a nicer way of saying: Fuck you.'"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

He didn't go too much, or too often. He usually had plenty of work to keep him busy, and he was often so booked that he didn't even stop to think of doing such a thing. But he went every so often; he _reminded_ himself to. As if he had some sort of obligation, though he knew he did not. Maybe the fact that he didn't have an obligation made it all the more important to go. So he did. Once class let out, and once he got something to eat at the less horrible places on campus, Hiro gathered his things together and went to the Student Wellness Center.

It was where a lot of things were. It was where most kids went to go and hang out during their free time, given there were so many places to sit and rest in comfortable chairs. Not to mention there was plenty of reading material, as long as you sorted through the health pamphlets. It was where the Nurse Practitioner on the campus was, and where you could go if you needed medical care of any type. It was where students could find an odd job, either as a filer, or a janitor, or whatever else you should choose to prefer.

But mainly, Hiro went there because it was where students could go when they needed to speak with people. With counselors, more specifically. There was an option for students to come forward about personal issues either with a professional that was there from time to time, or they also had the option of speaking to another student. Of course, these students were those with psychology majors, and nearly graduated themselves; however, oddly enough, most of the time, students tended to go with the person that already had a degree. And probably wouldn't cross paths with them at the next football game. It just took a bit of the excitement out of watching your team score, should such an instance occur.

So Hiro wandered down there every so often, when he reminded himself to. He found in important. He'd visited the place several times, when he was enrolled. He was probably there more than any other students; so much so, that he had been asked several times if he would rather study the mind than the machinery, and try his hand at that. And he almost considered such a route. But eventually he had conceded, very politely, that if he had no idea what the hell to do with his own head, maybe he shouldn't meddle in the heads of others.

So he had just gone there for help, when he was a student, like the ones there now. Not to toot his own horn, but his issues had been a bit larger than the others that would be filtering through around him. Susan had cried because her boyfriend had broken up with her when she thought he had been getting ready to propose. And Anthony was upset because he had a D in Biology 100, and he didn't want to retake it over the summer. Hiro, on the other hand, would curl up uncomfortably in his chair, and cry senselessly to whatever poor soul was on the receiving end of him that day, saying that he had no idea what he was doing. That life wasn't any easier, and it would never get easier, and he hated being at this school, but he didn't want to leave, and that people would stare at him, and that people would pity him before he even had the chance to say: "Hi, I'm Hiro."

He'd been obnoxious. He was there so often, and so long, that he was amazed none of the counselors put bars on the door. It was a free program offered by the school, these sessions— Aunt Cass didn't have to pay for anything this way, so it was a better alternative to anything else. Hiro frequented them. And honestly, it was one of the main reasons he had even gotten through school; not only gotten through, but eventually grew to have a fondness, and an optimism. That fondness stayed with him, and it led him up to steps every so often.

Led him to visit those who were still working there, and remembered him. He would always bring Evonne a birthday gift, every March seventieth. She was an older women, who, when Hiro would stumble into her office with already-red eyes and an empty expression, would smile and laugh, and pat the chair across from her with a sweet: "Why, hello, Hiro." He would give Mrs. Sommers a hug on his way as well, and they would sometimes stop and tease one another. She especially liked to bring up the time when Hiro had been in the middle of recounting one of the more harrowing memories from his time away, and she had been typing notes on her laptop. Though he'd been sobbing, and talking in a little bit of a panicked rush, he had suddenly stopped and made a face. And he'd leaned over and looked at her as if she had committed a sin as he'd croaked: "Have you not updated Windows yet? How are you getting anything _done_?"

He would help file sometimes, or help straighten up the place after students left it rather disheveled. He would take over some of the student's jobs and wink at them, telling them they could shove off and he would take the rest of their shift— that he didn't mind, and they probably had studying to do. Sometimes, he would talk to the students. Only if he was asked, or if they were unable to schedule an appointment as early as they wanted to, and were forced to wait. When he was asked, he would sit with them and listen patiently, some part of him understanding why they wanted his ear, even if he had never seen the kid before in his life. Sometimes he did know them, and he was all the more willing to help.

He was always willing. Because he knew what it felt like to feel like you didn't have any options, or anyone to talk to. He knew what it could mean, should kids not be able to have that ear or that sense of companionship as soon as they needed. What could become of that. Isolation and loneliness and sorrow combined to make a pretty dangerous cocktail. While the sorrow was something you had to shoulder a bit, and live with, loneliness and solitude could be avoided. Once you started feeling isolated, that was when things snowballed. Hiro knew that firsthand.

So that was mostly why he did return. For the students that needed help then and there, and not in three or four days when there was a time slot for them. And it wasn't all that frequent when someone did talk to him. About their worries or troubles or problems, that he tried his best hand at fixing. Maybe it was once every other visit. But he went anyway. Just in case.

Because he would be damned if let a single kid leave that Wellness Center feeling alone.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It was raining. The kind of rain that came down so hard you could barely see through it, and made you question whether or not you were actually underwater. It was the kind of rain that made it hard to breathe, even when you were in shelter, like Hiro was. Well— relative shelter. He'd had to sprint from his classroom to where his car was parked; he had tried to run in between the raindrops, but given that there _was_ no in between, he was soaked from head to toe. The moment he had sat down and slammed the door behind him, he had let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding— as if he really had been miles below the surface of some lake. Dismally, as he tried to shake himself off the best he could, he looked on the bright side that at least he wasn't wearing his glasses; otherwise, he'd be blind, too.

He pulled out of the parking lot and started to make for the main road. Aunt Cass had demanded that they get together tonight for dinner, and he still had about ten tests to grade before that. He knew leaving dinner early was not an option— he was going to be fenced in for probably around five hours. So he had no choice but to get everything done beforehand. Nozomi had to get a bath, too; Cass was always begging him to bring her along so she could see her, and Hiro wouldn't hear the end of it if he didn't—

His train of thought was broken abruptly. Firstly, because he came up to a stop sign, and had to slam on his brakes so that campus security wouldn't spring on him like rabid dogs. But mostly, he stopped because movement caught his eye. He spotted a student just a couple ways ahead, lingering underneath the overhang of one of the dorm halls. He recognized them, too. It was Abigail. She was standing with a certain sting of anxiousness, eyeing the storm and alternating between starting forward and doubling back.

He frowned, hesitating for a second as he glanced around outside. Not pausing to think, he shut off his blinker from indicating a turn left, and turned right instead. He drove over and came to a stop a ways in front of the door. Rolling down the window, he leaned to the side and narrowed his eyes just a bit. "Hey!" Abigail immediately perked, surprise coming over her face. "Are you going to class?" The nearest building for that was halfway across campus from here. Most of the science buildings were on the other end entirely. Kids always walked from here to there on nice days, and bundled up on cold days. But rainy days? Without an umbrella?

Abigail grinned a little sheepishly. "Trying to!" she called back.

He raised his eyebrows. "Do you want a ride?" he offered. "I was just on my way out, I can double back!"

She seemed immediately grateful, but her reply was hesitant all the same. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's no problem!" he assured. "It'll keep you at least halfway dry!"

The girl let out a huff of relief. Tightening her backpack sling over her shoulder, she ducked her head down and rushed for the car. Hiro made sure it was unlocked by the time she was there, and she let out the same huff of air Hiro had once she was safely inside and back above water. Abigail shifted, moving to hold her backpack tightly in her lap, trying not to get the inside too wet. She turned and offered him a tiny smile. "Thank you so much," she sighed. "I left my umbrella back at home last break. And my roommate was already at class with hers…"

He grinned. "For sure. I don't have that much on my plate." A lie, but it was alright. It'd only take about five minutes. "Where are you heading?"

"Romer, please," she chirped. "Down by the library."

He nodded. Feeling like a taxi driver, he started to turn around again so he could go back. It was a little bit farther than where he'd parked to begin with. The car fell into a little bit of silence, and Hiro cleared his throat in the middle of it a little uncomfortably. This wasn't nearly the first time he had given a student a ride. He rarely ever passed by someone without an umbrella without offering a lift. One time he had even picked up the awful geometry teacher that was notorious for everyone hating her— by the time she had gotten out, Hiro had fully understood why. Sometimes he was even flagged down from other students even when it wasn't raining because they knew he wouldn't refuse them— mostly seniors. And he guessed he couldn't blame them; he'd do the same in their position.

But there was something innately different about Abigail being the student he picked up, and it made him tense and a little rigid. The last full-on conversation they had had one-on-one was her wanting to drop his Term Two class, and switch over to Tadashi's. She had, of course, decided against it after a while, and in class at least, she had been just the same as ever. Which was fine— if Hiro had to deal with her _along with_ an _attitude_ , he would personally shove her out his door himself. She wasn't the type of student to harbor any sort of attitude, though, at the same time. She was the perfect student. All around, and inside and out. That made the fact that he was so uncomfortable with her even worse. It made the fact that he still could not say her name even worse.

It made it _all_ worse, really.

He coughed again, and made another turn. "So. What are you messing around with in Romer?"

"Writing," she returned, Hiro immediately noticing how polite and curbed her voice came out as. "Research and Argumentation. I needed another English course, and that was the easiest route to take."

He nodded, pursing his lips a bit. "Gotcha," he replied. There was the smallest taper into silence before he took in another small breath and asked brightly: "Well, what's new with you? How have you been? You getting excited for Thanksgiving Break?" _Oh, God, this is going fantastic. You're great. Like, really, you're absolutely splendid._ The sarcasm of his own thought process was not lost by him, unfortunately. It hardly ever was.

She sighed again, but it was more wistful this time. "It's still forever away," she complained. "But I'm excited. My family is travelling to my grandmother's for it. And it'll be fun to have time away from school. But I've been good. Just school. Work. Figuring it all out— it's hard, but it's fun." She tilted her head to the side. In accordance with the inquiry, she offered her own. "How are you? What are your plans for break?"

Hiro blew out a quick stream of air. "Whew, boy," he mused with a grin. "Thanksgivings are always this _whole ordeal_ at my aunt's house. That's where I'm heading, and where I likely will not be able to leave the entire weekend. Not that I'm complaining, really." His expression was undeniably fond. "Every holiday at her house is insane— she always goes all out. Tadashi and I come over, and it's always pulling teeth to leave. It's great." His smile was big and wide. He turned another corner.

Abigail smiled as well. "That sounds like a lot of fun," she agreed.

The conversation died again. Silence took its reign over the car again, and inwardly, Hiro realized if he turned on the radio, things would probably be much less awkward. Or at least less noticeably so. He didn't make a move for the knob, though. But once the thought occurred to him, it seemed to occur to Abigail. Keeping up her overly-polite tone, she looked at him curiously. "Do you not like music?"

"Oh— no," he mumbled, closing one eye in something akin to a wince. "No, I'm not really…a fan of…singing, or music, or anything like that. Not songs on the radio, at least. I never really… _tune in_ , as they say," he ended a bit awkwardly. He never liked what was on the radio. Or, more specifically, he didn't like wondering what song would be coming up next. He remembered when he had gone out driving with Tadashi, one of the last time he had indulged the radio; Hiro had finished the last of his finals at school, and they had wanted to celebrate by driving out to the nearest hot-spot tourist location. It had been fun when they'd actually gotten there.

But Hiro remembered being in the middle of his driving shift, listening to the radio since Tadashi was asleep. He remembered a song coming on, and feeling the distinct sensation of: "Wait a second, where do I know this from?" An unclear but annoyingly-obvious suspicion he couldn't land at first. But he did land it eventually, and he'd realized that it had been one of the songs that Abigail had liked— that Callaghan had forced him to memorize, and had screamed at him when he was, at first, unable to grasp it. He remembered how his eyes had stung, he remembered how he had let go of the wheel with one hand and turned, scrambling to wake Tadashi up. How his brother had snapped awake at his frantic slaps, looking confused and irritated but immediately taking to panic himself at Hiro's clenched voice.

" _Tadashi. Tadashi! I need to— I can't— can I pull over? I need to pull over. Tadashi, I need to pull over!"_

"I don't like music," Hiro tacked on, as if it needed anything else. Which it didn't, but whatever.

Abigail seemed to contemplate this. Then she grinned again. "Most of what's on it sucks anyway," she offered.

This got Hiro to regain his smile. He nodded, wondering to himself whether or not she was offering him an out, or if she was really speaking her own opinion. It didn't matter, he told himself. He just needed to take it and not overthink it. So he moved on before it could fester. "Have you regretted sticking with me?" he asked, indicating her desire to switch classes from before. He flashed her a smile, to show that he was joking. If she really did regret it, things were about to get very awkward. But then again, they were already pretty up there on the 'awkward scale' so there wasn't much left to suffer with. "You've been doing very well in class— you're pretty much way ahead of everyone else."

She seemed embarrassed at the praise. Though they both knew it was true. "Thank you," she gushed. "No, I don't regret it all, I'm very…I'm very glad I chose to stay. I have too many friends in that class. Amy and I are planning on being roommates next year, we're going to apply for it." She added quickly: "And I like having you as a professor too. I mean, next year I _will_ have your brother. But. No. I…you're a very good teacher. And I appreciate all that you've taught me so far. Because you've taught me so much, and it's so interesting, and it's really fun, too." She was getting close to rambling, by this point, but it was alright. "So…thank you. For letting me stay in your class."

Hiro was warmed by the sentiment. He always was, when he received emails saying students commended him as a teacher who made a positive impact on them. Or when students gave him end-of-the-year presents, even if it was just in the hopes of buttering him up for final grades. He always loved getting to know students more than just a kid to throw information at, and he loved hearing that it meant something more. But hearing it from her was a relief. It showed that he was slowly getting better— getting over it all. It showed that he was putting everything else aside much better than he had before. He'd been struggling to work with it, all. It seemed the effort wasn't entirely for nothing.

"Of course," Hiro replied warmly. "It's a pleasure having you. I'm _really_ glad you chose to stay. Truly, I am." He offered her a smile, and she returned it. Their last encounter had been tense and regretful, on both ends, though for entirely different reasons. This was easier, even if it was still awkward and not entirely all the way there. It was closer to an actual friendship. Which was so weird to consider being a thing. It _shouldn't_ feel weird, he knew that much. He guessed that was half the reason it _was_ , though. "And I'll look forward to having you back for Term Four!"

She blustered a laugh. "Hopefully I make it that far; I feel like I haven't slept in weeks."

"You're just fine," Hiro objected. He turned again, seeing Romer at the end of the road. The brick building was nestled away where the other classes were that fell in the category of general educations. All the other major-specific buildings would never be this far away. "When I was in my junior year here, I was enrolled in _twenty-three_ credit hours, actually," he laughed, only laughing again when he saw Abigail's startled double-take. "I really wanted to take all these classes, and over the summer I mentioned it to Tadashi. He told me I couldn't take that many at once, and I thought it was as good a challenge as anything else." He snickered, shaking his head a little aimlessly. "I mean, I passed them all, but _man_ , did it take _so much_ effort. I was running from one end of campus to the other, I was chugging coffee every single day…" He laughed again. "I did so much _stupid_ stuff when I was going here, I swear."

Abigail's smile was from ear-to-ear now. "Like what else?" she was inclined to ask.

Hiro's expression was crawling over with nostalgia. He pursed his lips a bit in thought before landing on something halfway passable. "I remember my sophomore year, I went to this event on campus just because I heard it had free food. So I walked on in and just got a _bunch_ of food without even thinking, and it turned out it was this really religious thing, which I didn't even know was an _organization_ here. But I wasn't allowed to leave because I already gotten this entire _load_ of food, so I had to be there for _three whole_ hours, listening to them read these religious passages I couldn't even make sense of, and listening to these kids preach and stuff and oh my _God_ it was so boring, no pun intended." His words were shaking with laughter, and it only escalated as he added: "Someone there knew about me, and they pulled me aside and said that hardship would be faced better if I…I don't know what they said, it was like: 'opened up to God', right? So they asked me if I could tell Him about the worst thing that's happened to me." He was cracking up by now. "And I looked them dead in the eye, and I told them the worst thing that's ever happened to me was me coming to this meeting, and that I really wanted to go home."

She gasped, her eyes going wide. "You didn't!" she objected.

"I did, and I felt bad about it _later_ , but in the _moment_ I thought it was funniest thing that had ever come out of my mouth," Hiro snickered. The awkwardness had evaporated, without either of them even realizing that it had. Thinking back to such things as that, Hiro landed on another, and brightened again. "There was another time, my freshman year, and I went with Tadashi to the Halloween bash they throw? You know, where they turn the dorms into haunted houses, and there's music, and games, and food?" Abigail nodded. She had gone to it just a few weeks ago; it was always packed and crowded. The biggest party the campus put on— everyone came.

Hiro nodded along with her. He was still smiling wide. "Well, I went with Tadashi, and the very first haunted house we went in, he made me walk in the front of the group. And it was fine, and I didn't care, until I started to turn a corner and one of the fraternity guys that was working as an actor jumped out at me. I completely _lost_ it— I screamed, and I straight up _shoved_ the poor guy over and nearly down the stairs. And don't laugh yet because I'm not even done!" he added, seeing Abigail start to giggle. "I turned and I started to run back to Tadashi, because he was a ways behind me, but I miscalculated, and I slammed my head into the wall instead. I blacked out, and I woke up an hour later in the Wellness Center with an ice pack on my face. Tadashi was _so_ upset about it, and about making me go first, but my other friend that was with us, his name is Fred, he was _still_ laughing so hard that he was crying. It was absolutely fantastic."

Abigail was laughing, at the mental picture. "That sounds so awful!" she giggled. "And like it hurt!"

"Oh, no, it didn't hurt that much," Hiro assured. "Trust me, it was nothing." By now, they were upon Romer, and Hiro stopped the car, getting as close to the door as he could before putting it in park. "But, oh well. I don't go first anymore when we go to the haunted houses." He flashed her a grin, and then exhaled heavily. "Welp. This is your stop. I'm afraid I can't lend you my umbrella, I kind of need it myself. But maybe you'll be able to bum a ride of someone from your writing class."

Abigail shook her head. "It's okay. I appreciate what you've done already— you didn't have to pick me up." He nodded, and she started to gather her stuff back together, and zip her jacket up in brace of the oncoming rain that would soak her through. "Thank you very much, professor. I owe you one."

"No problem," he repeated pleasantly. Some part of him realized that the smile he wore when he looked at her was genuine, now. Or more genuine than any other he had offered when it came to her. Usually his grins were fake and forced. This one wasn't, and some part of him realized the importance of that little fact. But he wouldn't give himself time to stop and wonder over it. He was too frightened that the relief over the fact would crumble and give way, if he did such a thing. So he just smiled at her simply and nodded again. "Have a good rest of your day, Abby." Still, the nickname was the one to pass his lips.

She beamed. Again, he had to wonder if she was put off by the assigned title. She didn't seem as such, but he didn't know how forthright that could be. "Thank you, Professor. You too! I'll see you Friday!" He repeated the sentiment to her, and she turned to let herself out of the car. She shut the door behind her and wasted no time; Hiro watched as she ducked through the rain and sprinted up the steps of the building to where her class was. She was gone in less than six seconds, in the still-torrential downpour.

Hiro paused for a moment, simply sitting in the newfound silence of the car. His smile remained briefly, lingering on his face for a heartbeat or more. It slowly faded, into more of a thoughtful one, and he looked down at himself, as if scrutinizing himself for an answer to a question he wasn't even entirely sure of in the first place. He shook his head to clear it. He refused to let himself think too much just in case it would all be taken from him, and he just kicked his car back into drive and regained his hold on the wheel. Without glancing back, he started to drive away again. To leave Romer and the campus behind him, and just go back home.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

November fourteenth, and they had a test. It was easy, to style the curriculum and the pace so that things just happened to line up. Or, maybe easy wasn't the right word. Could use selfish— selfish was just as appropriate, if not a bit more so. It wasn't like the class wasn't prepared for it, well enough. They just didn't have _the same exact amount of time_ they usually had to review. It was just a teensy bit less, though; it wasn't anything anyone noticed. Or if they did notice, nobody called him out on it. So it led Hiro to now, sitting at his desk at the front of the room and just waiting for everyone to file in.

He met the calls of good morning and the attempts at regular conversation with a silent, tired smile. His head rested on a hand, and his other hand moved idly, to tap his pencil up and down on the wood he was leaning against. Usually he prefaced tests with energy; he'd found that the more he tried to do so, the better scores seemed to be, somehow. As if it was a kind of kickstarter. At the _very_ least, he made fun of those who were so obviously cramming right before the papers were handed out, or the kids that had stealthily chose the route of just not showing up at all. There were always a smattering of those, no matter what day it fell on.

But once class officially began to start, Hiro just looked up from his desk and offered again that weary grin. "Alright," he sighed, pushing himself away so that he could stand and gather the papers. "Everyone here that's gonna be here?" The students glanced at one another, just the smallest bit put-off. Ignoring the fact, he turned and began to pace around the room, handing out the papers and giving murmurs of acknowledgement at the small 'thank-you's that were given in response. Though he wasn't paying that much attention. In his mind, he was counting down the hours until he'd be able to go home, and from there, it was a blank. Maybe he could go on a walk somewhere. Bring Nozomi along. She'd have fun, if they found a nice little trail. He was tired; he really just wanted to lay down…but he knew if he did—

" _Hey_!" The scream was accompanied with a slam as the door was violently shoved open. Hiro went into a spasm of shock, and he immediately lost grip of the rest of the test papers. They hit the ground and went kind of everywhere. Around him, his students seemed alarmed as well; Abigail actually squeaked and jumped nearly an inch off her chair. "How's the other half living, over here!?" the voice yelled again, just as intrusive, though thankfully not as so.

Hiro whirled around, his eyes wide and confused as they landed on the door. And immediately, irritation welled in his eyes at the sight of his brother. He was grinning like a dork; obviously he thought the stint was hilarious. Hiro, on the other hand, did not. Not today. He glared, leaning down and starting to pick up the papers that had scattered. "Tadashi, they're taking a test," he growled, despite the fact that nobody had had the chance to even open their booklet yet. "Go be obnoxious somewhere else, they have to get started, or else they won't finish."

"I can't pop in and see the students I'll have next year?" Tadashi asked innocently. Hiro straightened, having gathered the tests back up. He resigned to just standing stiffly, glaring at him with a silent expectation to leave. "I gotta scope out the competition, too, I can't have your kids being any better than mine." He grinned at the students, and offered them a wink. Most of them were smiling in turn; it wasn't the first time Tadashi had come into their class— the brothers were often together when Tadashi had nothing else to do in his break. But some of the students were following Hiro's lead— looking a tad disgruntled at their test time being taken. Of course, that was only half of Hiro's issue. "Maybe it's all a part of my secret plan to tarnish your kids' test scores…"

"Tadashi, c'mon," he sighed. He turned and started pacing again, to hand out the rest of the tests. He didn't look back at his brother, but the grimace of irritation remained like a ghost on his face. "Not today. Alright?" He shook his head and added as some kind of fixer: "Not on their test day, I mean. Any other day." When Tadashi did not immediately turn and let himself out, Hiro growled out a thinner: "Tadashi, _please_ leave." Though there was no tone of politeness there whatsoever.

"Aw, man, you're such a _downer_ ," Tadashi chirped. Hiro stiffened immediately in indignant anger at the insult, and he felt an even bigger sting of anger when he heard Tadashi actually start into the classroom. He cut himself off short, mid-extension to Mark, who awkwardly froze mid-reach at the look of pained resentment on his teacher's face. "C'mon, knucklehead, _lighten up_! I'll leave in a second, I just wanted to—"

" _Annoy_ me, and come in like you're—!?"

Hiro turned quickly as he cut his brother off, but once he did, he cut himself off. Tadashi was smirking, his expression much softer than it had been at the door. He was holding out a plastic bag that he'd held behind his back before, and he was now holding it out invitingly. He didn't say anything, and Hiro's hostility slowly shed away as he reached over and took it. He looked inside, and a worn and slightly repentant smile crawled over his face as he saw what was inside.

There were two bags of Gummy Bears, and a few cans of his favorite soda. He must have swiped some cookies from the café, too, because a few of his choice favorites were there as well. He'd gotten him ice cream, too— a whole tub of mint chocolate chip, with a spoon on top so that he could just eat straight from the container. His smile grew, along with his guilt for immediately snapping, but all the same, he looked at Tadashi gratefully, letting out a small huff of air. "This is— wow. Oh, geez…I'm sorry," he exhaled, shaking his head again. Tadashi smiled, and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I'm sorry," Hiro repeated, in a bit more of a laugh. "This is awesome. Thank you. I…I appreciate it. Thank you."

"Don't mention it, goofball," Tadashi snorted, rolling his eyes as if to ask: 'What am I going to do with you?' But there was an unbelievable amount of fondness there, at the same time. He freed one of his hands so that he could lean over and clap it down on his shoulder. "Call Aunt Cass once these guys are done with their tests. She mentioned wanting to go out tonight when she gave me those cookies." He pushed him a bit, affectionately. From there, he started to take a few steps backwards, to march out of the room and actually give the kids time to get cracking. "She also said to tell you 'hi.' I told her you would call, and she could tell you that herself, but she wanted to say 'hi' twice, so…this is your first 'hi.'" He grinned, grabbing the door handle again.

Hiro looked back down at the bag, his smile growing stronger now. The tension that had been fostered in his shoulder and his back was slowly melting. His stare was grateful and lighter when he looked back at Tadashi. He didn't need to say thank-you again; it was all already there. "Okay," he replied. "I will." Tadashi offered him a goofy look as response, and he doled out an exaggerated salute— first to Hiro, then to the kids. Hiro laughed under his breath when his older brother turned and shut the door behind him. He stood for a moment more, his expression soft and his eyes lingering for a heartbeat. Then he cleared his throat, putting his arm through the bag and turning to hand out the rest of the papers.

. . . . .

"No, it's not even my fault! If you think about it, it was all Gogo's fault! If she hadn't pushed it too far, we could have gotten away with it just fine, but she did, and because of that, we are now banned from the bowling alley!" Hiro objected, the anger in his tone offset with the wide grin on his face, and the intrusion of laughter in every other syllable. He had to talk a little bit louder than normal to be heard over the sound of the restaurant around him, but he probably would have been talking just as loud regardless. They all would have; there wasn't much thought of volume control. He laughed and shook his head, running a hand up through his hair and messing it up a bit. "I haven't been there since. I'm sure they've got a wanted posted up or something."

"You've never told me that before," Tadashi snickered. "Neither has Gogo."

"Oh, that's because we're bound to lifelong secrecy," he said lightly. "Though I just spilled it, so don't bring it up to her. She didn't want anyone to know she was that reason for that huge hole in the wall."

Aunt Cass eyed him, her nose scrunched up tightly as she made a show of looking her nephew up and down. "I can't believe you did that!" she snapped, her laughter also cancelling out whatever sternness she might be attempting to show. "You _deserve_ to be banned, my goodness. And to think that I thought you were just a sweet little angel." Hiro grinned cheekily, crossing his arms where they rested on the table. "You're a criminal."

"I'm not a criminal!" he blustered, laughing again. "I am an _offender_. There's a _difference_. I think. I dunno." He smiled and took a drink of his soda. Their food still hadn't come yet, but he didn't mind the wait. "No, I wasn't a criminal. I was merely a misguided patron who _really_ wanted a strike."

Tadashi snorted. "If you want to get a strike someday, maybe try working on your bowling skills until you can play without the bumpers up."

"Don't tell me what to do," Hiro replied neatly.

"Hey, be nice," Aunt Cass said, looking between the two of them with enough warmth to melt the ice in their drinks.

"Yeah, Hiro, be nice," Tadashi parroted, leaning over and nudging him, so that Hiro had to catch himself and not topple right off his chair. It caused Hiro to dissolve into a fit of giggles, a wide smile breaking across his face as he leaned forward a little bit, shaking his head. He moved on, to snap a sassy remark back, which would ultimately probably _not_ suffice as nice. And Tadashi snorted with laughter, and Aunt Cass was quick to follow suit, far too happy to pretend to be cross.

And as they dissolved into a fit of giggles over something that shouldn't be all _that_ funny, Hiro was just the same. He wasn't able to hide his smile, or his laughter, or the fact that he was genuinely happy, despite anything else. Despite the feeling he'd had getting up this morning, and despite the way his eyes had stung when Nozomi rushed at him to say her usual hello. Despite that. Despite it _all_.

He was happy.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

" _5…4…3…2…1! Happy New Year!_ " The new year was brought in with a loud chorus of cheers and whoops, applause breaking out as confetti was shot off in every which direction. It'd be a huge mess to clean up later, but for the moment, nobody cared as streamers were literally strewn around the entire living room. Aunt Cass turned and hugged the person closest to her with a grip hard enough to choke them out, which thankfully was Tadashi, and not him. Hiro, strategically, knowing such a fate would befall anyone who was near her, had skirted around and was now perched on the arm of the sofa. His legs were pulled up to his chest, and he smiled fondly as he rested his head on the tops of his knees.

Fred was currently tearing through all of the confetti poppers that were left over; a mass of brightly-colored paper string was slowly building up at his feet. "This year is gonna be _sick_!" he roared. Hiro eyed him skeptically, and his smile cracked wider when a confetti popper shot off prematurely, hitting the side of his head and causing him to stumble to the side with a yelp. He knocked into Gogo in the process, and she immediately shoved him off, glaring at him in silent advice to cut it out. As always, though, he wasn't all that fazed. He just threw himself forward and gathered her in a tight hug, ignoring her stiffen. "Happy New Year, Grumpy!" he shouted.

Aunt Cass turned, but before she could attack Hiro, he shifted and hopped to his feet. He dodged his way through who was gathered, because there were quite a lot, and he hunkered to the kitchen to grab up the tray of champagne. Balancing it, he turned and started back to the party, beginning to hand them all out. He skipped over Fred and Gogo, who were dissolving into a slapping fight, and he went to Wasabi instead. His friend was grinning from ear-to-ear, his arm around the waist of his wife as the both of them tracked the success of Gogo putting Fred off of her. So far, they were pretty much evenly matched. "Hey!" Hiro chirped, having to talk a bit loud over the combination of music and television and conversation. Wasabi turned, raising his eyebrows. Hiro offered the both of them the tray. "Happy New Year!"

As expected, Wasabi grinned but refused the offer. "I've got to drive home!"

Hiro sighed. "It's _one_ drink!" he objected. When Wasabi just smiled and shook his head again, he rolled his eyes, looking at Mina in exasperation. "He's a real keeper!"

She giggled, smiling brilliantly as she leaned over to take one of the flutes. "Better be!" she replied, after taking a sip. "He—"

"I want one!" Hiro jumped at the sudden yell and the unexpected grab to his leg. He almost lost his grip on the entire tray of drinks, but thankfully Wasabi was quick to help him balance it before that could happen. Hiro wanted to be frustrated by the intrusion, but he simply wasn't able to as he looked down and locked eyes with Eimi. Instead, an endearing smile broke over his face at the sight of her. The seven-year-old clung to Hiro's leg with one arm and reached up with the other towards the glasses. Her eyes were round with indignation. "I want one, I want one!" she pleaded. "Can I _please_ have one, Hiro!? I _want_ one!"

"I _knowwwwww_ you want one, Em," Hiro cooed, stepping out of her grasp. "But it's an adult drink, okay? I can get you some grape juice in a second."

"I want that, though!" she objected. "I don't want grape juice, I want _that_ juice!"

" _Someone_ doesn't even know what they're _asking_ for," Wasabi laughed, pulling away from his wife and stooping down to look at his daughter carefully. "C'mon, let go of Hiro, you've been hanging off him for long enough, tonight. How about you thank him for those piggy-back-rides he gave you tonight, and then you can go and find Jackson? I'm sure he'd like to play with you again."

Sullen, Eimi unwound from Hiro and blew out her cheeks at the rejection. But she got over it quickly, and regained her smile as she looked back up at him. "Thank you for playing with me!" she chirped instead, and Hiro's expression softened. He watched the little girl turn and scurry away to find her playmate, and he took the opportunity to step aside and keep going around. If it took any longer, the entire tradition of having the first year's drink would be next to pointless. As he stepped away from Wasabi, he grinned immediately at the next cluster of people who caught his eye.

"Hey!" he cheered, stepping over to the trio, already armed with a grin. "How are you guys? I'm glad you could make it again."

Stacy smiled, accepting a tall glass with a murmur of thanks. "Thank you for having us," she returned, a small laugh bubbling underneath her words. "I didn't think Cass could outdo the cake she made last year, but she continues to shock us!" She frowned a bit, turning and glancing around the room. "You haven't seen Jackson, have you?" she asked. "He's always getting somewhere…"

"Oh, no, I haven't," Hiro mused, glancing around. "But Eimi headed off in search for him, if anyone can track him down, it'll be her. Girl's insane, when it comes to finding someone to play with her, I swear. My back still hurts." He turned, and Tony took a glass for himself when he did. Hiro raised his eyebrows. "I'll have you know, the college is putting on a party soon. They do all the time. They're going all out— there'll be a hypnotist, a magician, they've got some sort of petting zoo thing, and tons of games. Food and all that good stuff. It'll be really fun, you can come if you'd like. Just say you're with me." He threw a smile in Stacy's direction. "Jackson would love it, I'm sure. And Eimi will be there."

She beamed. "That's wonderful!"

Tony smiled as well, and said at the same time: "That's really nice of you."

"Eh," Hiro shrugged. "It's the least I could do." He turned then, grinning a bit more mischievously when he turned to the couch. " _Mrs. Shelts_!" He chirped this teasingly, laughter edging his syllables. The old woman immediately swelled and lit up at his attention; she had the horrible habit of doing so. Hiro offered her a glass with a smirk. "I'm afraid you can't chug the entire bottle, but you can have a glass! If that's good enough for ya."

She shot him a pursed look. "Oh!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying a mock sense of reproach when she took a glass. "You're too much! You're always teasing me, you rotten little thing! A poor old woman! What am I to do?"

"You're not _that_ old!" Hiro objected. The compliment came easily, with a broad and reassuring smile. He always harbored a soft spot for her, so the compliment came easily. But it was also true, too. She _wasn't_ that old. She was young enough to have challenged Fred to an arm wrestling competition earlier. Which he of course had accepted wholeheartedly. "You're still young enough to party with the best of us!"

She grinned, bursting over with heartfelt affection. "You're far too sweet, my dear. I think it's my little Buttons that's warmed you up so much!" She looked down with a smile at Nozomi, whose head was resting comfortably in her lap. As Mrs. Shelts petted her gently, her tail wagged this way and that. She'd been there ever since she'd started to get tired from Jackson throwing her ball earlier. Given the time, Hiro was impressed she hadn't conked out yet. Mrs. Shelts looked at him warningly out of the corner of her eye. "You still have time to change her name, you know! I think Buttons has a better ring to it."

He mimicked offense. "Nozomi likes her name! Don't you?" Nozomi didn't respond as he leaned down at bit to look at her, which wasn't helping his case. He stuck out his tongue as he straightened. "It means 'little hope'! I thought it was very fitting."

She smiled. Raised her eyebrows again as she drank some of her champagne. "I have a _little hope_ you'll give me a few more of these."

He laughed aloud, his eyes widening a bit. "Sometimes you really make me love you!" he snickered. Mrs. Shelts laughed as well at her own joke, leaning over and giving him an affectionate pat. The three of them lingered a moment more before Hiro turned and finished handing out the drinks. He gave some to Fred and Gogo now, who had sufficiently broken up after Gogo had socked Fred in the arm. He handed one to Tadashi and Honey Lemon too, who had drifted over to be with Wasabi and Mina. Aunt Cass had gone to the kitchen to check on her cake pops and how they were doing, so Hiro turned and finally went back to her.

He lifted a glass and gave it to her, leaving the tray alone on the counter. Cass immediately brightened when she caught sight of him, and she softened at the silent offer. Though as she took the flute, she glanced him up and down. "You're not going to have one?" she asked, innocently enough as she took a sip herself.

Hiro made a face, leaning back against the counter and plucking up one of the small treats. "I don't like drinking; the smell is gross," he reminded, not for the first time. She frowned a bit, seeming pained. Regardless, he brushed to off and offered her a smile. _"So!"_ He tilted his head to the side. "Happy New Year, Aunt Cass!" He did turn and grab a glass of champagne at this, but only to clink it against hers as was customary. "Made it another one!"

She brightened and grinned at his gesture. Her eyes softened, and she leaned forward, rubbing his shoulder. "Sure did! 2027! How strange— time flies by, doesn't it?"

Hiro cuffed with a small laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, it kind of does." He looked down at the glass he was holding. It was a little pointless to do so, considering he wasn't planning on even sipping it. He just watched the drink bubble up from the bottom of the glass. Falling a bit silent as his forehead creased with the smallest bit of thought.

Aunt Cass turned and set her glass down on the counter. Hiro had a split moment to look up again, before her arms were around him tightly, and she was holding him close to her. He softened over at the embrace, turning away only to put down the glass in his hand before he shifted to pull her close to him as well. A smile broke out over his face, though the longer that the hug lasted, the sadder it seemed to get. But he still offered a small laugh, and repeated: "Happy New Year, Aunt Cass."

He heard her give a small sniff, and when she pulled away to look at him, her eyes seemed just the smallest bit red. But she smiled right back to him, especially when she saw him weaken just the smallest bit. "Yeah," she said, her voice softer than normal. Her eyes flickered over him, as if she was mapping him out entirely. "Happy New Year. Honey." Her lips shook a bit, and she ducked in for another hug. "I'm very glad you're here."

"Of course!" he replied lightly. "What else could I have gone?" Though he was a hundred percent positive that she hadn't meant it like that. She never did.

All the same, she didn't correct him. She just leaned back again, after pressing a kiss to his cheek, which he tolerated without question. She glanced at the living room, to where everyone was still socializing. Tadashi and Honey Lemon were talking to Mrs. Shelts, Honey Lemon laughing over something the woman had said. Nozomi was back up and rushing around, Jackson and Eimi making a game of throwing her ball for her. Apparently she had caught a second wind. The picture was very different than what it had been so long ago, that one New Years that nobody dared to speak of too openly. It was nice. Almost unbelievably so.

She brightened and wiped at her eyes. "We should go back," she said.

Hiro turned, apparently following the same train of thought. "Yeah, yeah we should," he said. A more enthusiastic smile spread over his lips, and the sight of it back on her nephew's face where it belonged made Cass' heart squeeze surprisingly painfully. "We haven't brought out Twister yet. I'll give Mrs. Shelts a run for her money." He drummed his hands on the countertop before turning and hopping back into the party.

Cass watched him for a moment, silent as she merely remembered back to a time when she had wondered if she would ever see him this happy ever again. She glanced down and took a sip of her champagne. Toasting the new year and everything that was better – would continue to be better – before turning and following her nephew.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Finals were always dead silent. Almost awkwardly so. Only for him, of course, because all of the students were too busy thinking to stop and notice the fact that you could hardly breathe in the silence. Every simple turn of packet pages seemed loud enough to shatter windows, really. So when the last few kids finally got up and turned in their test, it was a relief, because Hiro was running out of things to do. He could only text and bother Tadashi so much, before he apparently turned off his phone and turned into a loser. The kids would filter by and turn in their paper with a rather nervous expression, and stop to offer little smiles and hushed 'thank-you's. He'd gotten a few hugs as well. Little bittersweet partings, because these kids would be Tadashi's next year, for Term Three. It'd be a whole year before he saw them again.

A whole year until he'd see them again. That was, unfortunately, the first thing to flash through his mind when he looked up at the final kid to leave. He smiled at Abigail as she put her test down with the rest, once again becoming acutely aware of the silence. But, given that they were the only ones in the room now, he spoke up. "Have a good summer, Abby." Against himself, he wondered whether or not it would be easier when she was gone. It was already easier— he was adapting to the challenge of having her there, ever-present. When she was Tadashi's problem…what would happen then?

She put her test down, and returned his smile wholeheartedly. It was not lost on her that between the two of them, hers was a touch more genuine. "Thank you, I hope you do, too!" Her smile turned a bit more thoughtful, but all Hiro was really focusing on was her glasses. How her hair was shorter, now that summer was starting. Again, the guilt stung at him. "I wanted to say thank you for not letting me quit. Last year, I mean," she started, and Hiro had to drag himself back into awareness so that he could actually listen to what she was saying. "I really love this class, and the people in it. It's so much fun. And…you've been my favorite professor." Hiro's lips twitched into a faint smile at this. "So thank you. I'm going to miss being in your class next year."

He wondered if the same could be said for himself. _Stop it. I've been getting better. It's been getting easier. Just a few days ago, she came to my office for help and I didn't turn her away or make an excuse to leave early,_ he admonished himself. But at the same time, the other side of him snapped: _You still can't look at her without thinking about it. Why can't you even say her name?_ "Sure," he replied, his voice a little bit of a croak. He had to clear his throat before continuing, with relief as it came out much more controlled and at ease. "You won't miss me too much; Tadashi can be cool when he wants to be. And you'll be back for Term Four."

She nodded. "But still. I think everyone will miss you."

 _You think_ he _misses you?_

He cleared his throat again. "I'll miss everyone too. I wish you the best of luck for your next two semesters."

Abigail nodded. She slung her backpack more over her shoulder. "Thank you," she murmured again, gratitude in every letter. Hiro mimicked her grin, and he was silent as she turned and made for the door. The small click it made as it shut seemed to echo in the now-empty room. He stared straight ahead for a second, at all of the empty desks and chairs in front of him. Nobody to fill them, nobody to be there at the same time he was. He shifted and looked down at his feet. Not all that sure what he was supposed to do now.

. . . . .

"What happened to not drinking?" Tadashi asked, hoping the question would come out in more of an exasperated demand. But really, it just came out sounding tired and worried. How could it not, after the phone call he'd gotten at three in the morning? As exhausted and confused as he was, the second he had heard Hiro's voice on the other end, he had scrambled up to get dressed and sprint out the door. An hour later, and now he was plodding up the steps to his house, carrying Hiro bridal-style with a wince every now and then. Hiro's eyes were glazed and half-open. He reeked of alcohol, which was a testament to why he'd needed picking up in the first place. He added offhand, as if to lighten the mood: "Not the best way to bring in the summer, buddy. You're lucky I don't have work tomorrow, or else I wouldn't have come down to get you. I would have rolled _right_ back over and gone to sleep."

He immediately regretted the words when Hiro replied. "'M sorry…" His lips hardly twitched with the two words. His head was slack to the side, and his already-soft words were mostly swallowed by Tadashi's shoulder. But it didn't stop him from immediately weakening in guilt. He glanced down at his brother, seeing the misery that was written all over his face, and he started to open his mouth and say something more. To tell him what he usually did: that it was okay, that it wasn't his fault, or that he didn't need to be sorry. Before it could get out of his mouth, though, he stumbled over himself, not looking up at where he was going and accidentally walking right into the wall once he passed over the threshold.

Hiro was jarred, caught in between Tadashi and the wall, as if he was a human shield. He closed his eyes tightly in a grimace, and a small mumble of "Ow" leaked through his lips in the same weak way his apology had. Tadashi immediately doubled back, righting Hiro in his arms and grimacing. "I'm sorry!" he yelped, that guilt only doubling on itself. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to— oh, _crap_ …" He realized only too late the extra mistake he had made, and turned, his expression already wilting as he looked to the corner of the living room. Having been stashed away for the meantime, Baymax was now inflating to life, alarmed by the call of pain. He didn't need this. Not right now.

He turned, heading for the couch, where Hiro would most likely sleep until noon tomorrow. Gingerly, he set him down, making sure he wouldn't roll over and crash to the floor. As he did, he glanced over and made a face. "Baymax, go back to your port," he growled, much too tired to have common sense. "I am—"

"I was alerted by a sound of distress," Baymax interrupted. Tadashi blew out his cheeks, looking stressed out beyond relief now as he tried to situate his little brother onto his side. Just in case. Baymax looked down at the younger of the two now, realizing his presence. He blinked at the recognition. He and Hiro had become close, if such a word was right. Hiro liked to get him to repeat things that came out funnier than they really were. Baymax liked to be with Hiro and make sure he was happy and healthy. Oftentimes, Tadashi had purposefully left Baymax at his home, or actively instructed him to stay there so that Hiro would have someone with him. Tadashi could only miss so many classes. "Hiro," the robot mused. He tilted his head to the side. "You have taken in a significant amount of alcohol. While you are not at risk of alcohol poisoning, you are at risk of vomiting, nausea, cramping, disorientation—"

"Baymax, not now," Tadashi hissed. "I am satisfied with—"

"Tadashi?"

He almost screamed. What he did do was crouch down to his knees, beside his brother. His hands went up to shove through his hair, and he had to pause a long moment before he looked up. Honey Lemon was standing at the top of the stairs, alarmed as she glanced from Tadashi to Hiro. She quickly descended the rest of the steps and started over, her hands clasped in front of her in concern. "Oh my goodness, what…? Is he okay? What happened?" she whispered, though Hiro's eyes weren't closed yet. He was mostly staring, in a vacant way, as if he wasn't actually seeing anything. It was a look hauntingly similar to a time that Tadashi would rather not revisit, and it was part of the reason his skin was itching with nerves. Which wasn't being helped by all of this.

"I don't know," he answered heavily, shaking his head. This had never happened before, and he did _not_ like that. At _all_. "I don't know, he just called me and he was hard to understand. I don't even know what he said. I tracked his phone, found him at some bar. I brought him back here, I couldn't just let him be out on his own, he might—" He stopped short, not even sure how he had been planning on finishing that sentence. He didn't want to know. "He's fine," he went on to say instead. He looked back at him, his eyes raw. He reached over to carefully brush some hair out of his eyes. "He'll just stay here. I'll call Aunt Cass and tell her in the morning. Not now." She wouldn't even be up right now. He didn't want to give her a rude awakening as well.

Honey Lemon adopted the same sorrowful look as she studied Hiro. She started to say something, but seemed to think better of whatever it was. She just took in a slow breath and nodded. "Okay," she breathed. "Do you…are you going to go back to bed? Or…?" It was four in the morning. The kind of time where, if you hadn't gone to bed yet, or were rudely woken up, you stopped to think: 'Is it even worth it?'

He shook his head. "I'll stay with him," he mumbled. "You can go back. Don't worry."

She glanced at Hiro one last time. She only nodded, promising herself that she would get up earlier than planned and maybe make some breakfast for them all. But for now, she knew it wasn't her place to push and stay. Instead, she turned and went back the way she had come. Tadashi was relieved for the easy victory, and he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Then he just turned back to Hiro, forgetting Baymax for the time being. The robot was taking to silence, just watching Hiro closely. Somehow, though Tadashi knew it was impossible – because it _had_ to be, right? – he would have said that his creation was worried over Hiro's wellbeing. How could Tadashi possibly push him away, when such an assumption was made?

"You were doing _really_ well…" Tadashi mumbled, a certain degree of pity coming over his face. He hardly ever let it show; he knew how Hiro felt about it. But for right now, he didn't see the point in holding it back. So he let it surface finally, somehow finding that it felt better not to cover it up. Because it was true; Hiro had gone nearly half a year without an episode. Though this was a different kind of episode than he normally had. "What happened?" Hiro closed his eyes as the question came to be, and Tadashi wasn't surprised. He just sighed and began to push himself up to his feet. "I'll get you a blanket," he offered. "Can't be too comfortable to—"

As soon as he stood and began to make for the hallway closet, he felt Hiro's hand wrap around his wrist and hold him back. The hold was surprisingly tight, and he jerked backwards, a little concerned. Hiro was looking at him groggily, but his pain was apparent underneath the bleariness. He spoke, and his words and syllables slurred together. "She said I was her favorite professor…she said she would miss me…"

He blinked a few times, having to try and fit the puzzle pieces together. It wasn't a hard leap, though. He figured his assumption was correct. His shoulders drooped, and the pity in his eyes grew even more as he moved back down to him. "That's _good_ , Hiro," he encouraged, painfully aware of how fake his bright tone sounded. "Hiro, that just means you're doing well, despite her. And you _have_ been doing better, you really have. You treat her like all the other students that love you to pieces. Which is an _amazing_ thing for you to be able to do." He brushed his hair aside again, trying to be soothing. "You've done really well, Hiro, I didn't think you could do it. So it's okay. That's perfectly okay." He smiled, despite the sorrow there. "And now she'll be in my class. You get a break, yeah? Let _me_ worry about her now."

"No…no, you don't get it, you don't…you don't understand…" Hiro pressed. He curled up closer to himself. He started to move his arm and pull it over his mouth. Tadashi, knowing this move all too well, patiently stopped him before he could. "You don't get it," he groaned. "She said she would _miss_ me. That I was her _favorite_ … _me_ , but I've been— oh, I've been the worst…I've been _terrible_ …I can't even…I can't even—I'm _such_ a—"

"Hiro, Hiro, stop," he shushed. " _Stop_ , Hiro. You're doing just fine. Don't be upset, okay? _Please_ don't be upset, because you've done so well. You've been doing _great_. This entire time, you've done the best you can, and you've done so much better than anyone else could have. You've been through so much. Alright? And you've _accomplished_ so much despite it. Don't you ever let yourself minimize what you do, okay? Because it's _so_ amazing what all you've gotten to be."

Hiro let out a sigh that shivered on its way out. He sagged back into the pillows of the couch, his forehead creasing over just the smallest bit. He fell silent for a heartbeat, grimacing to himself. He curled his shoulders in just a little bit. His grip, still locked around Tadashi's wrist, tightened. "I just can't look at her without remembering him…I can't, I just can't, and I hate it, I hate it so much…" he sobbed out, the words so quiet it was hard to even hear them.

Tadashi hunched forward. Pain gripped his heart as he looked at his little brother. And remembered how long he had sat in front of the person who had tormented him for a year, never being the wiser to any of it, and never helping. He brushed through his hair again and heaved a sigh. "I know, Hiro…" he murmured, his voice thick. "I know…" Hiro fell silent, the confession being his last as he just took to flinching his eyes closed.

Tadashi's chest tore when he saw his baby brother's shoulders tremble up and down. He sucked in a slow breath, trying to look over the heartache somehow. Though it was hard. It was always hard. But he couldn't crumble; he could never crumble, he didn't deserve to. He just needed to be there for Hiro, and he always was. He would never let him be alone again. So he moved and shifted over, adjusting so that he could wrap his arms around his little brother. He leaned down, holding him tight and letting his head rest down on his. And he sat there in the dark living room, just to be there. Just to somehow do the best he could.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

There was another breed of early-morning phone calls from Hiro. This was the next one. At two in the morning, this time, his cellphone rang, and, seeing his brother's contact information, he immediately went into a spasm of worry and shock. He yanked his phone off of his bedside table, nearly ripping the charger out of it as he answered. "Hello?" he basically gasped, Honey Lemon immediately jerking awake as he accidentally spoke too loud. She turned and looked at him with a confused scowl, but he ignored it. "Hiro?" he pressed, when there wasn't an immediate reply. "Hiro, are you okay? What's— what's wrong?" He was still half-asleep.

" _Hey_!" Tadashi winced away from the shout. He grumbled, irritation now coming to rest on his shoulders when he recognized the eagerness in his tone. The fact that there weren't any slurred words or hiccupping gasps, or pained sobs. His voice sounded completely normal. Nope. It was one of _these_ calls. "What're you doing right now?" Hiro demanded, sounding as wide-awake as if it was two p.m., not a.m.

"What am I _doing_?" Tadashi asked in a grumble. "Hiro, it's _two_. I am _sleeping_."

"That's lame," Hiro sighed. "Let's go get ice cream. Let's go to Steak 'n Shake."

Tadashi's head hit the pillow with a thunk. "I am not going with you to Steak 'n Shake at two in the morning."

"Why _not_?" Hiro asked, innocently enough. "It'll be fun. C'mon, get up. Let's go out!"

" _Why_ in the _world_ do you want to get ice cream _now_?" Tadashi groaned.

"Because I _can_!" Hiro pointed out in a laugh, not at all perturbed by the attitude. "Because I _can_ , and because I _want_ to, and because I want to have _fun_! _And because it's happy hour!_ " He laughed again, and Tadashi met the ecstatic attitude with yet another groan. Hiro was not deterred, though. Tadashi could practically feel his grin from the other line. "Come _on,_ Tadashi! Let's _go_! Because it'll be _fun_! Because we _can_!" His voice softened. "Come with me to happy hour," he pleaded, a bit softer.

Tadashi sighed. "Hiro. It's is _two_ in the _morning_." He said this slowly, and patiently. As if he were speaking to child. "I am going to _sleep_. I am _not_ going to happy hour."

Thirty minutes later, and he was sitting in the brightly-lit diner, snickering at Hiro as his little brother attempted to cram fifty cherries in his mouth. Not even missing his bed as Hiro grinned around a mouthful of fruit, snorting in a way that sounded more like choking than giggling, which made Tadashi laugh even harder. Thirty minutes later, and they were clinking their milkshake glasses together, toasting the day that hadn't even happened yet because the sun was not up.

Just because they could.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

His class was just getting out. It was his Term Five class, and, given that it was getting to the end of the year, he was enthralled to hear whatever jobs his kids had lined up for themselves once graduation was through and over with. It was just about everything he could picture, and he liked to know that just about everyone seemed to be going on a track that was best fit for them. He was currently grinning from ear to ear, listening to Allison, one of his better students that had hung back to detail the job she had just gotten working for a theme park. She was bright-eyed and excited, chirping on about the animatronics she had seen in her last visit, and the future of what she would be doing later.

She beamed, and added on: "It's my _dream_ job. And I wouldn't have ever gotten it without you. Thank you so much, Professor Hamada."

He smiled. Felt that familiar tug in his chest that made things worth it. "Of course, Allison," he replied warmly. "It was my pleasure to have you these last four years. You've always been more than ready for all this. What a relief to finally be done with it, huh?" Movement caught his eye out the window, and he turned, his forehead creasing a bit as he looked outside. Tadashi's class would be wrapping up as well, just about now. But they were outside, altogether. The kids must have had a project of building any sort of flying contraption. There were small drones, little airplanes, cute little characters whizzing around. Only one or two of them were having trouble getting off the ground, it looked like.

Tadashi was walking through the small gang of students, making notes on their progress. Subconsciously, Hiro found himself seeking his students out, rather than listening to Allison, who was going on. He saw Amy was the creator of a little light green plane— it was working just fine, it was her driving that was the issue. Mark was the owner of what looked like it was supposed to be a flying monkey, which Hiro could stop and take a moment to give props to. That one had a hiccup or two, it looked like, where he was sitting. But it was easily a B grade. Maybe an A-, if Tadashi was feeling generous.

Tadashi kept walking, and Hiro's eyes flickered back to his brother as soon as he came to a stop beside Abigail. Hiro's smile wilted, and his shoulders did the same, when he saw she was piloting a bright purple car, that was currently whizzing through the air with considerable speed. It had little wings on the sides. He could tell that a lot of care and precision had gone into the making of it. Tadashi seemed to as well; his mouth was moving, and he grinned wide as he wrote something down on his notes. Abigail smiled brilliantly at whatever he'd said, looking overjoyed when she laughed.

"And you should hear my starting salary!" Allison gushed, still talking. Hiro didn't look at her though. His eyes were trained fixedly outside, that disheartened frown staying on his face. Allison wilted just a bit, more confused than anything as she pressed: "Professor? Would…do you want to hear what they told me?" He didn't move, though, guilt clouding his expression when he saw Tadashi and Abigail exchange a smile – a _real,_ genuine one – before his brother began to move on.

"Professor…?"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Term Four's first day was today. Despite the extra work that everyone was fully aware would come with the next step in their major, everyone was absolutely buzzing with excitement. They were getting their teacher back, after all. Tadashi had been wonderful, and nearly every bit as much fun as Hiro had. But those who were returning to Hiro's class – because there were a few that were mixed around, of course, such a fate was inevitable – were returning to his class in a rush, or a sprint. Nearly everyone was eager to have their professor back. A fact that was unheard of in any other class but this one, just about.

Abigail was one of the students who had actually been looking forward to the beginning of the fall semester, purely for this reason. She was sitting up front with Amy, a smile on her face as the two passed the time by gossiping. How Sandra had dropped out of school because she'd had a baby with her boyfriend Tom. How over the summer, Abigail had heard that Doctor Harman in the Fine Arts Building had had another baby, too, but she wasn't too sure. They were invested, and giggling, after setting up their notes, and the only reason they stopped talking was because Hiro swept into the room.

The students brightened at the reunion, and they all turned bright eyes to their teacher. A few already were calling out hellos, and questions, but after a moment, the excitement began to decay uncertainly. Once they took in their professor's state, the excitement died away. He didn't waste time with and greetings. He turned on his heel, a stack of papers in his arms. He began to hand them out to each person, sweeping right into the instructions without the foreplay. "This is what we're doing. No lesson plan— this'll be your first grade."

Abigail took the paper, discomfort and confusion coming over her expression as she began to read the assignment. She glanced at Amy and saw the same concern on her face. So she turned, clearing her throat before she asked a bit hesitantly: "Er…are you sure we should…are we allowed to do this?" It wasn't the first time she was asking this question, she realized. In this class, they pretty much did questionable projects half the time. Usually when she asked, Hiro said something along the lines of: 'The Dean owes me fun, and [insert their questionable activity here] is fun.'

Now though, he didn't bother with it. He just continued to hand out the sheets. "We're gonna do it."

Mark rubbed at his mouth, skeptically looking over the instructions. "Are you…sure?"

"I'm positive. He deserves every bit of it," he said shortly, finishing handing it out as he turned and went back to his desk. "We have three days. Including today."

"It'll be outdated, by then," Jackson announced from the back.

Mark looked at him blandly. "It's _already_ outdated, Jack."

"Revenge is _never_ outdated!" Yuri cheered, practically jumping in his chair with eagerness. "This is going to be so great! He'll need to get the plates, because he's going to get _served_. _Hell_ yeah."

"But isn't getting revenge…not good?" Abigail asked slowly. She looked at the paper again. "I mean…especially this, it…it seems a little…"

Hiro looked at her calmly from his desk. He raised his eyebrows. "You don't think he deserves it?"

Abigail shifted. She looked down and looked over the paper again. "I mean…" She laughed awkwardly, tucking her hair behind her ear. Hiro's eyes flashed at this. "I don't know, I think...yeah, I…I can see why…I just think it's…I wasn't expecting the assignment. I guess. Is all." She tried another laugh, which tittered out just as hesitantly.

Amy had slowly turned in mood, and now she seemed to agree with Yuri's optimism. There was a small grin on her face. "I think it'll be good," she decided, turning her smile up to Hiro. "And it's not like we wouldn't be getting a grade— or learning something." Humor cracked its way into her eyes. She added a coy: "And we'll teach someone else a lesson in the meantime, right, Professor?"

"That's the point," Hiro replied neatly, crossing his arms. He raised his eyebrows again as he surveyed the class, and now that familiar little light came back into his eyes as he looked them over. That challenging sort of look he usually got that brought the smiles back on his students' faces. "So?" he demanded. Abigail cracked a grin too, and she looked back down at her instruction sheet. Might as well. Amy was right— they would learn something, and they would teach a lesson at the same time. "You ready?"

. . . . .

Hiro stood at the front of his class. They were each holding their buckets, armed and ready for his signal. They'd worked for days on it, and though Hiro was already happy to see their ability to pick up on this new skill fairly easily, he was mostly looking forward to this moment. He glanced back at them, checking that they were ready. A few looked doubtful, as if they weren't sure they should be doing this, still. But the majority of them were more than excited. Yuri was hopping from one foot to the other. Abigail and Amy were exchanging eager smiles.

Hiro turned, and smiled wide. He was the most excited out of the entire group. Of course he was. "Alright," he hissed, reaching out and starting to grab the doorknob. The kids began to shuffle forward and tighten their holds around their buckets. In turn, he began to shuffle to the side and out of the way. "Ready?" he whispered. A bunch of nods, and more smiles of anticipation. Without further wait, Hiro ripped open the door and rushed to the side, out of the way. His kids scrambled forward at once, as many people cramming into the entryway as possible. And they leaned forward, tipping over their buckets and spilling out the things inside.

Screaming immediately burst out of the room, as well as the sound of rushing and stumbling to get out of the way. Hiro waited until all his students had poured out their buckets before turning and running into the room, leading the way for his class to follow. A smile broke out wide over his face, and he clapped his hands together loudly. " _Hah_!" he snapped, looking satisfied beyond belief. " _This is what you_ get!"

Tadashi was stumbling backwards, his eyes ten times as big as they should be as he started to scramble onto his desk. His students, who had been listening attentively before, were doing the same, pushing and shoving to get off the ground. Hundreds of tiny spiders were now swarming the classroom and getting everywhere. Covering the floor, but the better ones were starting to climb up the legs of the tables and chairs, getting the students that were trying to hide. They were robotic spiders, of course. Little tiny things that his class had never had to make to scale before, and had brilliantly. All for the purpose of this.

Tadashi looked up quickly, stunned as he looked at his brother. " _Hiro_!?" he screamed. " _What are you— what the— you did this!?"_

Hiro's class was grinning widely, a few of them doubled over in laughter at the sight of the teacher they had had last year so distressed. Hiro smirked crookedly. "Revenge is a dish best served _with spiders_ , brother mine!" he yelled.

Tadashi was glaring at him furiously. But in the very back of his gaze, stuffed down and away, there was a gleam of humor there, too. And he looked impressed as well, once he realized these weren't _actual_ spiders. "'Revenge?'" he demanded, incredulous. "What do you mean _revenge?_ What did _I_ do!?"

Hiro rolled his eyes. "You _broke_ our _Snapchat streak!"_ he yelled.

Tadashi blanched, too shocked to reply for a second. When he did, he snapped: "Hiro, that isn't _treason against the country,_ you're such a _drama queen!"_

"We were on day _two hundred,_ Tadashi,yes it _was!_ I amthe _furthest thing on this planet_ from a drama queen!"he screamed. Tadashi ducked his head, crumbling entirely now, as he broke into a fit of giggles. Hiro tried to stay looking angry, but he couldn't either, and he quickly shook his head, choking on his own laughter as he began to step back, nudging his kids back to do the same. "Have fun, _jerk_!" he yelled, turning now. "Hope you thought it was worth it!"

Tadashi tried to yell after him and call him back. As soon as he did, a girl fell off the desk, and was immediately swarmed with little robotic spiders, screaming bloody murder that was surprisingly able to be heard over the laughter that came from Hiro and his class. The older brother had to turn, freaking out a little. "Emily— aw, no, Emily, get off the ground!" With the yell, he was laughing again, and Hiro was nearly suffocating on it when he shut the door behind him, hearing Tadashi's frantic and hysterical: " _Emily, get off the ground, oh my God this is so stupid!"_

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It was Family Fun Day, and Hiro was not having any fun. He'd volunteered to man a station, in the hopes that it would be a fun time, with the added bonus of overtime. But he'd been sitting here for two hours, and he was honestly the second most bored he had ever been in his life. The college always put on these sorts of things, especially for kids who were far away from home and didn't have a lot of family time. Parents and grandparents and siblings and cousins came to visit the students that were here, and there were tons of things to do. Carnival games set up, and stations for kids to play, and tons of food like popcorn or cotton candy.

When Hiro offered his hand at volunteering, he'd wanted something cool like the dunk tank, where the Dean was currently getting soaked over and over again. But no, he'd gotten stuck here at the hula hoop station. The even little kids got bored of this place in five minutes and flaunted away. He wished he could do the same, and now he was really wishing he hadn't signed up for this dumb thing. No matter the extra money. Currently, he was listening to the kids laughing over at the bounce house, the conversation and the music, and he was spinning a hula hoop so that it would roll and come back to him. Very fun.

" _Hiro! Hiro, Hiro! Hiro!"_ He smiled wide when he heard the familiar voice, and he turned in just enough time for Eimi to crash into him. He grinned and shifted to kneel down, leaning over so that he could wrap his arms tight around the little girl. She beamed, jumping up and down when she only hugged tighter. "Hi, Hiro!" she cheered, thrilled head over heels like she always was, to see him. "Are you having fun?"

Hiro grinned and looked up to see Wasabi and Fred following after the little girl. He pulled away and ruffled her hair with a smile. "'Course I am, Em," he returned. He looked her over, laughing at the cotton candy she was holding in one hand, and the stuffed tiger in her other. Her face was painted to look like a butterfly, and she was wearing a first place ribbon they gave to every kid who played down at the basketball hoop game. "But I don't think I'm having as much fun as you! You look like you're having the time of your life!"

"Mhm! Daddy told me I could play as long as I wanted!" she cheered. She showed him her tiger. "I named him Cuddles!"

He made a face at her, reaching out to poke her in the stomach. "Tigers don't cuddle, silly, they've got teeth!"

"I got teeth, and I cuddle," she squeaked.

"You do, indeed," Hiro affirmed. "And you're the _best_ cuddler I know." He leaned a bit closer and looked at her intensely. "Don't tell Nozomi I told you that, though. She'll get jealous!" Eimi broke down into giggles at this, her eyes lighting up at the mention of his dog. She _loved_ Nozomi to pieces, it was almost ridiculous. He shot a wink in her direction before he moved and stood, smiling at his friends once they finally caught up. "Enjoying the day?" he asked. "Obviously you can tell I'm completely booked over here. Far too many kids."

Wasabi smirked. "I can see that. How much longer do you have to stand and look at empty space? We were thinking of going out to eat."

Hiro drew his hands through his hair. "Hm. I have a couple more hours. I can text you." He looked over at Fred. "Have you seen Tadashi?"

"Handing out popcorn," Fred chirped, looking down at the bag he had in his hands. "He wouldn't give me any more."

"That's because that was your seventh bag," Wasabi sighed.

"I am a simple man with simple needs," Fred replied in turn.

"Aren't we all?" Hiro sighed. He turned and brightened, looking at Eimi eagerly. "Do you wanna hula hoop, Em? I'm sure you'd be really good at it!"

"Mmmmmm, no!" His face fell at the refusal. "I wanna go to the petting zoo! I wanna pet the llama!" Without a single word after that, she turned and she pelted off. Wasabi instantly washed over with panic, and he rushed after her, yelling her name. Hiro watched them with exasperated amusement, which only doubled when Fred left to get more popcorn. Apparently seven bags was not enough to put his colon out of commission. Finding that he was alone again, Hiro turned back to his hula hoop and picked up spinning it again, flicking his hand down quickly so that it would walk back to him, like before. It was a while before he was interrupted again.

By now, he was quite skilled at distracting himself with activities that literally entailed nothing.

"You're him!" It was two words he had grown to completely hate and despise, and Hiro soured immediately upon hearing them. He paused a moment, and tried to offer the benefit of the doubt, but when he did turn to look at who was speaking, his glare of irritation wasn't all that disguised. Though it weakened somewhat as he realized that they were adults. It didn't put them entirely out of suspicion, but usually the rude calls and outbursts tended to be kids. Last Family Fun Day, Hiro had been manning the Water Tag station, when a six-year-old had run up to him and said that their parents had been talking about him, and he wanted to know whether or not Hiro had died, back then. He had promptly taken to then squirting the professor in the face with a water gun and running away before he even got the chance to say anything.

Hiro really hated Family Fun Day.

His angered impulse began to ebb away when the man, who had called out in the first place continued. "You're my son's professor, aren't you? The robotics man! We've heard so much about you!"

Hiro cracked a small grin now. "Oh…oh, yeah, that— that must be me!" He reached out and shook both the mother and the father's hand. "Hiro Hamada. I teach along with my brother Tadashi."

"Our son is Ko Amano," the wife said proudly. Hiro reached the name after a moment's pause. He was in Term One. A B student so far, but Hiro was patiently waiting for the A student he knew would come later. It was always the same with those kinds of kids. "He just started this year, he is absolutely in love with this school and his program," she gushed, Hiro stuffing his hands into his pockets and smiling at the information. "He always calls home with so many stories about you and your class! He's so happy here, it's amazing."

"I've heard it's a ball," Hiro joked. "That's great to know he likes it. So far he's doing just fine. I'm glad to have him. Is this your first time at the Institute?" At their nods, he brightened. "I hope you're enjoying it! It's really a pretty campus. The _best_ campus, if I do say so myself, but I might be just a little biased." He laughed. "I'm glad Ko seems to think the same. I know I loved it here when I was a student."

The father smiled, and he began to ask: "So I heard that you—?"

Before he could finish, something collided squarely into the back of Hiro's head, making him stumble forward in shock. Cold and wetness exploded there as well, and he reached back in alarm. He whirled around, his eyes already wide, and yet they got wider it shock when they landed on the perpetrator. Or… _perpetrators_. Abigail's hand was clapped over her mouth, her arm still thrown forward towards Hiro. As if she couldn't believe she had actually thrown her water balloon. Amy and Yuri were standing behind her, and they were bursting into laughter.

"The three amigos!?" Hiro demanded, a shout halfway between betrayal and approval at catching him off-guard. Before he could say anything else, Amy threw her water balloon, and it hit him dead in the chest. It exploded there as well, and he squawked with indignation as he only got more sopping wet. "Stop it!" he laughed, fumbling with himself to try and fix it somehow. "You can't—" Mark threw his water balloon, and Hiro tried to dodge it, but he only ended up make it hit him in the side instead. He was getting soaked from head to toe, and he let out a huff of frustration mixed with laughter. " _Stop it, you're—"_ Somehow Abigail had another water balloon somewhere, and that one was introduced to Hiro's face. He tore it there, and, not knowing exactly what he was going to do with it, he grabbed a hula hoop and started to charge at them. _"That's_ it! _You guys are the worst students I've ever had!"_

They shrieked with laugher, and turned to rush away, shoving at each other to go faster when Hiro raced after them. The parents watched with wide eyes as the professor started to run after his kids, unsure of what to think when he left the station empty. Hiro didn't look back, though, and his voice was punctured with breathless laughs as he ran after them. _"Don't even bother taking your finals, they're all gonna be F's!"_

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"This is so weird," Hiro decided one day, once class was near over, and he found a suitable stopping point. He was standing at the front of the room, looking over the kids. _His_ kids. The thought made him smile with a bittersweet sort of happiness, and he went on to declare: "Term Five." They'd made it to Term Five— all the kids he knew would. He pursed his lips a bit, and made a face. "I don't like it. It's weird. This is…you guys are like the second _actual group of kids_ I've had from beginning to end." And it was true. He had jumped in on a year, taking them off from Tadashi. He hadn't been teaching _very_ long. How could he, with his age? "It feels weird! To know that I won't have you guys anymore! To not see you all every day! It feels weird, I don't like it. How's Tadashi been doing it this entire time?"

Yuri tapped on his desk with his hands, like a drumroll. "Who's your favorite in here?" he demanded, nothing short of coy. "If you had to pick someone, who would be your favorite?"

Hiro threw him a look, rolling his eyes and turning to his bag to begin to pack up. " _I'm_ my favorite in here," he replied, layering on the smugness thick. "Because I'm just so _great and fantastic_."

Yuri held his head in his hands. "I'll be your favorite once you see my senior project."

Hiro laughed. "Oh yeah?"

"No, _I'll_ be his favorite," Ichiko objected. "I'll mop the floor with you, man, just you wait."

"Bring it on," Yuri snickered. "I'm sure I can beat whatever _shoeshiner_ you're coming up with."

Amy stuck out her tongue to her friend, from where she sat. "You called me at three in the morning this morning to see what I was doing for my project, asking for ideas," she outed. "Don't you be all high and mighty when I'm trying not to fall asleep, you idiot."

He leapt to his feet. "I did not!" he snapped. "And even if I _did_ , _maybe_ I got an idea between then and now!"

"I would bet a hundred dollars you have nothing," Amy mused.

" _I_ would bet a hundred dollars _you_ —"

"Guys, guys…hey? Suddenly, you're making it _really_ hard to miss you," Hiro notified in a grumble. The students grinned in response, and he continued to pack up, jerking his head to the door. "Go on, you can leave. I'll end early today. Go ahead and _please_ get started on those senior projects. You know how important they are, and I really don't want these five years to end on a bad note. I'm sure you guys don't either." He looked up and offered them a smile that was filled with genuine pride. "You've all come a long way, don't mess it up now. I've got high hopes for each and every one of you." Once he got all the smiles and unspoken affection he deemed adequate enough, he nodded to the door again. "Go on. Scat."

Scat, they did. With the normal hustle and bustle that he was accustomed to, the kids got up and began to leave. He was formulating in his mind the best plan of attack for dinner tonight, when there was a small cough. He looked up, and immediately smiled. Finding that it was easy now, and he did not have to think about it. "What can I do for ya, Abby?" he asked, Abigail looking at him nervously from her desk, still. "Don't tell me you don't have an idea yet for your project," he joked. "If you're drowning already, heaven help the rest of these suckers."

"No, I…I have an idea," she offered out. She reached back and rubbed the back of her head. He frowned and straightened at her apparent discomfort. "I wanted to ask, that, actually…if…if we could do whatever we wanted for our project. The instructions said it was open-ended. And that we could. I just…I didn't know if that was the whole truth. I wanted…to know if we were _really_ able to do _anything_ we wanted. You know…?"

He frowned. "Well, sure," he said. "There's no bar. You guys have come far enough that I don't need to give you a bar— that's the whole point of this program. You, and everyone else along with you, are ready to take things into your own hands. That's what Term Five is, basically. It's you proving that you don't need me anymore." He smiled at this, and she did as well, though it was still a little weak. "Do you…want to tell me what you're thinking of doing?" he asked hesitantly. Usually kids liked to make it a surprise along the way. And it was admittedly more fun that way. But kids often came to him for advice, as well. "Maybe if you tell me what you're bouncing around, I would understand why you look so afraid."

"No, no, I'm not— I don't want to tell you. Just yet. I don't think," she offered awkwardly. She smiled, and she stood from her chair, gathering her things. "I just wanted to know. As long as we really can do whatever we want, then I'm fine. I just wanted to check one last time before I started."

He smiled. "Sure. Yeah, go for it. Go nuts. The crazier and more _you_ it is, the better."

Abigail nodded. She murmured a thank-you, and then turned and left the room. Hiro blinked a few times and eyed her skeptically as she went. But he just shook it off with an aimless smile and finished getting everything together himself.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

October, and the San Fransokyo Institute of Science and Technology threw their annual Halloween party. The campus was swathed in decorations, and the dorms were transformed into their customary haunted houses. Kids were running this way and that, and music was blaring overhead. Candy and popcorn and prizes were being handed out along the walkway, and, of course, the seniors had smuggled alcohol into the supposedly-dry campus. Hiro and Tadashi had gone with the rest of the gang, like they did every year.

Hiro was in the middle of the group when they filtered through the changed dormitories. When an actor jumped out a Honey Lemon, Hiro had stifled his smirk when she immediately grabbed onto his brother, who had been just as startled by the scream and tried somehow to help her anyway. He and Fred had competed in bobbing for apples, and Fred won by one apple after he somehow managed to cram two in his mouth. Tadashi had challenged his little brother to a s'mores-making contest, and Hiro knocked it out of the park by somehow stacking together three marshmallows, two pieces of chocolate, and managing to somehow take a bite. Wasabi had left only an hour and a half in, saying he needed to get home to go out with Eimi.

Hiro had started to coerce his brother into having a race across the entire campus to see who would be fastest, which wasn't the best idea when you'd eaten the s'more _he'd_ had just before, when his students had rushed upon the group, party string ablaze and immediately splattering over Hiro from head to toe. He squeaked and fumbled, grabbing Tadashi and yanking him forward as a human shield. Gogo wasn't as forgiving about being attacked by the string, but couldn't hold back her grin when Hiro unraveled himself and chucked it at her smugly.

Hiro turned and snapped at them sarcastically, his students shrieking with laughter at the look that was on his face. Beneath the string, that was. As Hiro rushed forward and began bickering with Yuri, reaching out and grabbing for the spray can, Tadashi sobered a bit and watched him. His expression grew softer and more sober as his little brother wrestled for the can, grinning from ear to ear as he snapped at Abigail to help him, if she wanted a good grade on their next test. Tadashi watched his brother being happy. With his students. Not just with his students— with Abigail. Really and actually happy.

He wasn't much older than them, in actuality. He was the youngest professor the college had ever had. Twenty-nine, and he had been working for quite some time. These last five years, though, it had been hard for him. Tadashi had seen it, had dealt with it right alongside him, because even now, he was not going to let him think he was alone. It had gotten worlds better. A few hiccups here and there. But all the same. The fondness and relief in Tadashi's gaze was palpable, when he watched Hiro bicker and fuss with his kids, as if he was simply another student, completely the same as every other person here.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

"Give me a push."

"I do not wish to harm you by applying unnecessary force."

"It's _not_ unnecessary, it's _completely_ necessary, Baymax, just _push me_ ," Hiro said, making it much less of a request this time, and more of a demand. Baymax blinked and paused just a moment more, before he leaned down and gave the back of Hiro's chair an appropriate shove. It rolled easily over the smooth floor, and he grinned with triumph as he slid directly into his student's lab, gradebook and notes already in hand. Abigail's head shot up in surprise when Hiro nearly smacked into the opposite wall, but he recovered and smiled, his legs folded on the chair as he grinned at her. "Thank you, Baymax, your help is always appreciated," he hummed.

Baymax waddled into the room after him. "I am glad I could assist you, Hiro," he returned. Then he moved to look over at Abigail, and his head tilted to the side. "Hello, Abigail," he greeted, Hiro's eyes flashing a bit when he looked down to scribble on his notebook. Baymax often stayed down in the labs for the students, when Tadashi wasn't putting him to any other use. Given that the students were often misguided and up late, too, he usually had a hand or two in helping them with actual medical problems. Or just having someone to vent to. It was better than them having to sprint for the Wellness Center. So predictably, he knew pretty much everyone. "How are you doing, today?"

She smiled wearily, glancing over at Hiro once he looked back up. "Good," she trilled. "I'm nervous…"

"I can tell," he replied. "Your cortisol levels are extremely high."

"She's bound to be nervous, Baymax, take a chill pill," Hiro drawled. Baymax stilled, as if he was trying to figure out what a 'chill pill' was. Hiro rolled his eyes and scooted his chair closer to his student with a grin. "Let's put an end to the stress, then, huh?" All his kids were falling apart. It was their final project, after all. Their very last one, which they'd been working for ages on. "Let's see what you've got to turn in!" He didn't see anything at all, yet. All his other students had large inventions— like Tadashi had Baymax. Sitting in Abigail's lab, it was entirely empty. The desk and the usual furniture, but the floor was completely clean, and there wasn't even a box for storage anywhere. So far, he was pretty interested.

Abigail took in a slow breath and took a second to steel herself. Then she nodded and turned, going to her desk and picking up a small band from it. She walked back over and held it out to him. Hiro's forehead creased as he reached out and took it, turning it over in his hand. It was a bracelet. A slim, silver bracelet that didn't look like much. When he looked over it, he could see that there was a small button to press. He raised his eyebrows, and slipped it onto a wrist. Eyed it a moment before looking back at her expectantly. "So?" he prompted. "You've got my interest."

She wrung her hands together, still looking far too nervous. Shuffling her feet, she cleared her throat and began to hedge along worriedly. "Well, I don't…I was thinking of a name for it, I haven't…I didn't get to that yet, but it's…well, it's for…prevention. Safeguarding."

He nodded. "Okay." Fair enough, he guessed. A name wasn't _required_. The thing just had to _work_. "A safeguard for what?"

She looked near miserable. As if she was suddenly regretting something. She coughed again, and didn't answer. Instead, she just explained more. "Okay, so you sync and connect to the bracelet, so it— you know, it kind of registers your normal levels of blood pressure, of heart rate, and things like that. Kind of like Baymax can tell it. But— but that's— I didn't copy off him or anything, that's just…" Hiro grinned a bit at her rampant nerves, and she huffed for a moment before starting again. "So when it detects a change in heart rate— a really dramatic one, it knows, and it senses that something could be wrong with you. It can sense when you have hormones like adrenaline in response to something frightening, or if you have hormones like angiotensin in response to pain. And that's the safeguard…it makes sure _you're_ safe.

"So when it senses all these signs and changes _together_ , then it knows something is wrong." Hiro's expression was cleared now, and instead he was looking at her solemnly. "And so when a person is in a dangerous situation, where they are experiencing these changes, that's when they hold down that button on the side for four seconds. It alerts the police, and it sends your GPS location to their system. And it acts like a recording— it connects you to an operator, who would know to just listen and gather as much as they could on whatever situation you're in. And the bracelet— it would tighten around your wrist with all this, you know? And so— you know, unlike your phone or something like that, whoever it was wouldn't be able to take it off of you. If they even knew what it was in the first place. That's the thing, it's entirely unnoticeable." She shuffled her feet. "And it takes prints of someone that isn't yours, if it gets touched. It'd all be on there and gather everything, after it gets set off, I mean."

Hiro looked back down at it. His face was blank, but it was just as well, because if it wasn't, he wasn't sure what _would_ be there. He wasn't sure what to say. Or do. Because there was that final thing coming, and he knew that it would. He asked about the mechanics, in a mumble of controlled focus. Because that was his part as a teacher. But it was clear that when Abigail spoke and answered his questions, she was looking at him intently, and waiting for the end of it.

"Seems like a lot of room for error," Hiro pointed out eventually. "A lot of possible false alarms."

"No more room than there usually is," Abigail objected respectfully. "You have to hold down the button for at least four seconds, so a simple fall or a bump against it wouldn't set anything off. And it doesn't contact the police without you holding down the button. As long as you do that, it's taken care of from then. And even if it starts recording, you could just say it was a false alarm, and they could tell that you weren't in any danger from your scan. But I mean…the point is, you can get information and help. With it. The police can know what's going on because they'll hear it happening like they were standing right with you. Or they'll have the prints, if the person tries to grab it." She shuffled her feet again. "And if you're taken someplace else, the police will be able to follow you, no matter what."

He felt his throat tighten and close somewhat. He tried to clear it without being too obvious, and after a moment he managed a tiny: "And…" He looked at his notes, at the last question he always asked at the end. It was, to him, the most important question of all. But suddenly, he didn't want the answer. He forced it out anyway, looking at her with that old difficulty. "The…personal reason for this invention in particular?" He asked it slowly. Robotically. Baymax might as well have asked it.

She looked at him miserably again, and now he could realize her extreme nervousness from the very beginning. Because she had been dreading this question to. She reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, Hiro twitching at the motion. And she took in a slow breath, turning earnest now as she looked at her professor. "Because if there is a way to stop bad things from happening, or at least a chance to doing so, I think anyone should take it. And I figured I could try," she offered. Her gaze flickering over just a bit more with this, though, she added softly: "I know it's not my place…and I know I probably shouldn't say it…"

Hiro concentrated on not blinking as he listened to her speak. As he stared at the face that seemed more familiar than it actually was. That seemed like a mirror to a place he did not want to look at, and yet came to his classroom day in and day out for the last five years. She looked at him squarely, now, and stated a soft: "But I don't think that you deserved any of it. And when you get so sad…when it's like you…have so _much_ , sometimes, it seems…you don't deserve that either. You're the best professor that's on this campus. Even with… _me_." She said this last part softer. She shuffled again. Hiro's eyes were burning by now. "It's horrible. That you went through that…because there wasn't another option to take. So…"

She looked away from the bracelet and back to him. Maybe her last name didn't match…maybe it wasn't Callaghan. But everything else did. He didn't even remember her last name. Not right now, in this moment. Their eyes locked as she looked at him. As Abigail looked at him. And said in a small mumble: "So I made one."

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

It was, arguably, the highest honor a professor could receive. To be demanded and voted by the students to speak at graduation. Usually they had celebrities come. Or famous people. Hiro guessed he could qualify as such, in technicalities. But he knew that wasn't the reason he was contacted by the Dean one morning, a week prior to the date. He knew that wasn't why he walked into Hiro's just-emptied classroom, a pleased and warm expression on his face at the cheery hello he received from the teacher. The reason why he had been asked to speak at this ceremony was because of the faces he could see grinning back at him.

It was a bit daunting at first, but he had quickly warmed to it. At the sight of not only kids from his class, but kids that he had talked to and smiled to at the Wellness Center. Kids he had stopped to explain math to when he passed the tutoring room and there was nobody there yet to help. Kids he had sat with for lunch, because they had been sitting with his students who'd flagged him over. They were kids he knew. Maybe not each and every one of them, but he knew a majority. And they knew him. Those who did not know him, knew _of_ him. Whether or not that was a good thing was beyond him. He did not want to entertain it.

In the back of the crowd, he knew Tadashi and Aunt Cass were sitting and watching. Smiling with pride and love and relief and everything in between. He could practically feel it radiating to him where he stood on the stage, smiling wide. He could feel it meet and grow in size with each and every word he spoke. "I think it says something, that you would ask me to be here instead of anybody else. Instead of someone…famous, or someone well-known," Hiro went on, continuing to read the speech that he had written in preparation. Trying his best to pull it off. "I think it says that you've all got pretty low standards." He smirked with this, and the joke was met with a trill of laughter through the crowd.

His eyes softened. He leaned on the podium a bit. "I cannot express…how _honored_ I am that you all would ask for me personally. I've been up…entire _nights_ trying to think of the right words to say. Telling myself: 'Hiro, you can't screw this up, you've got to do it right.' I'm not the best public speaker, I never really have been, if we're all being honest. But I knew I had to do this speech justice. Because it's important. Because I'm giving it to the graduating class of 2030. Because I'm giving to _you_ guys."

He smiled, and looked over them. "I don't know all of you. And not all of you know me, either. But I know a majority of you guys. More than just those that were subjected to the confusing torture that was my class, though they probably know me a little too much." Again, there was a burst of laughter. "I know you guys, and I know you deserve the best sendoff from this institute, because you gave this institute all of yourselves, and all of your effort. I've seen it, throughout these years. We all have. And we're all very proud of you. And we mean that, too."

He looked at the sea of faces— just in front of him. He didn't pay mind to the families and friends that were there watching. Not too much mind, anyway. Because this would mostly likely be the last time he would see these kids. It caused a pang in his chest, and he looked back down at his notes on the podium, taking in a quick breath. "This is the part of the speech where I give you advice going forward," he laughed lightly. "Uh…I'm not sure I would _ever_ recommend anyone taking advice from _me_. Yesterday I tripped over nothing and fell _up_ the stairs, and spilled soup all over myself."

The students laughed again, but mostly because nobody was at all surprised at the mental image.

Hiro cleared his throat. Adopted a more serious tone. "I know you guys will be just fine going forward. I've seen you handle tough tests and tough situations. I've seen you guys having fun at campus events and parties. I've seen you help each other, I've seen you study and I've seen you work, and so I know that you'll be _great_ when you go there. Each and every one of you have my full confidence, for when you go forward. And I hope you have the confidence of everyone else around you. Your parents, your grandparents, your siblings, your cousins, your aunts, your uncles, and everyone in between. I hope your families and your friends help you along the way, and if not, know that you will always have family and friends back here, on this campus, always waiting to help you, even once you move on."

He took in a slower breath now. "The best advice I can give…the _only_ advice I can give…is to live your life the way you want to live it." The words seemed too heavy in the air, once they came to be. But he went on nevertheless. "It's an obvious idea. But it's also a very, _very_ important one. I want the same thing for each and every one of you, and that's for you all to be happy because you _want_ to be. I want you all to be doing exactly what you guys _want_ to do, and I want you guys to make yourselves unbelievably happy because of that. I want you guys to be _insanely_ happy." He laughed, but it was smaller, and his grin turned a bit waterier.

He went on nevertheless, after a weighted pause. "Never…let anyone take away your happiness, _no matter what_ your happiness comes from. And never…let someone take away something from you that is _you_. I want each and every one of you to know that you are the most important thing to yourself, going on. You are the most important thing. _You_. Not the job you came here to be able to get. Not the salary you're going to get, or the vacations you're going to go on." His shoulders curled a bit. "Not people's expectations of you. None of that matters. _You_ matter. To your friends, and to your families, and to your teachers. And to yourself."

He cleared his throat. "If you've learned nothing from this college, then I hope you take this away with you. I hope anybody does. Because life gets in the way of things, sometimes. And you never know what's going to happen, later on, down the road. You can only count on a couple of things to always be there for you, no matter what. The first would be your family, whoever you deem fits into that category. The second would be yourself. You can _never_ allow yourself to lose those things. They are _yours_ , and they will _always_ be yours, no matter _what_ happens. So you have to protect them, and hold them close to your heart, where they belong."

Hiro drew himself up a bit taller, and cleared his throat again. "Because you guys are _really wonderful kids._ You're _so_ fantastic, because you guys are _yourselves_ , and you should never stop being yourself. It doesn't matter what comes up. It doesn't matter if it's not good enough for someone. You _are_ good enough. You're _always_ good enough. No matter what. You always have been, and you always will be." Again, he coughed, and shook his head. He smiled wearily. "You might think it's a little childish. For someone at your graduation to stand here and say the old 'Be yourself' line." He shook his head. It was a good thing he was speaking to a microphone; otherwise, he likely would not have been heard, as his voice dropped in volume. "But it's important. It's so, _so_ important."

He sought out familiar faces in the crowd. Michael, and Amy, and Yuri. Alice, who had been crying in the Wellness Center when he was just about to leave. Kaori, who had been silent and sitting by herself at lunch, and who he had nudged her new best friend Chiyo to. He warmed and softened. "So many of you mean so much to me. You've been wonderful students, but you're wonderful kids, first. I am so glad…" There was a lengthy pause, where Hiro swelled even more. His voice was just a touch thicker when he managed a tinier: "I am _so_ glad that I am here. That I was here to see you, and meet you, and teach you, and talk with you. I wouldn't trade it for absolutely anything in the world."

He was getting to the end of his time. And so he smiled big again, shoving down the lump in his throat as he proceeded. "I am proud of you and all of your accomplishments. I have so many wonderful memories of these past years, and I hope you have fond memories of this place as well, which you'll always carry with you. I know you'll be just fine going forward. Because each of you are wonderful people, that are deserving of everything great that will come to you in time. You'll meet so many new people and make so many new friends, and you'll find a place you never thought you would be able to find. And you'll be all the better for it. I know you will."

Hiro clasped his hands together. "So, to the Class of 2030, I wish you all the best of luck going forward. I hope that you find everything you are looking for, I hope you get to be so happy that you can't even stand it, and I hope you hold onto yourself with an iron grip, and I hope you _never_ let go. I know you'll be just fine." He grinned. "But if not…well, then you've always got a family to come back here to, if nothing else. And we'll always be right here, waiting. Just where you left us." He dipped his head in a tiny nod. "Congratulations," Hiro repeated wholeheartedly. "I am so very proud of you. And on behalf of this entire institution, I wish you good luck going forward."

The crowd immediately erupted into cheers and whoops when he drew his speech to a close. Hiro smiled even more with the response, and as he nodded again and took his steps back, he felt his eyes sting and burn. Which was just as well; he'd rather it happen now, than when he was actually talking. He took his place back on the stage, and he watched the rest of the ceremony play out. He watched the kids line up and get called to receive their diplomas. He watched them turn their tassels to the other side of their cap, to signify their graduation. And he watched with a tender little grin when they all threw their caps into the air, screeching with happiness and victory at their accomplishment.

When the ceremony was through, Hiro stood and he walked back out the way he had come. He skirted through the crowd, smiling and shaking hands and doling out hugs when he was stopped by students he knew, and the occasional impressed parent. Mostly he just weaved and bobbed, and found his way back to Aunt Cass and Tadashi. He felt a little silly, dressed up in the graduation uniform as he came to a stop in front of them. But the self-consciousness couldn't weaken the brilliant smile that was on his face. "Hey!" he chirped. "How'd I do?"

Aunt Cass, was, of course, crying. And she quickly threw her arms around Hiro, squeezing him tight enough to choke him on the spot. "You did amazing!" she sniffled, Tadashi watching the two with affection as Hiro blew out his cheeks and tried to look irritated. "Oh, you were so wonderful! You are so wonderful! I love you so much, you're fantastic!" Hiro flushed, and did a dramatic show of rolling his eyes. She pulled away, though, and he couldn't even attempt to look annoyed when she fixed him with a relieved stare of pure adoration. She reached out and placed a soft hand on his cheek, running her thumb there. "I love you so much," she repeated, softer this time. Hiro weakened. "And I'm very glad you're here, too," she choked out, barely managing the wish.

Hiro smiled. He gave a small nod. He _was_ here. He wasn't going anywhere. Not anymore.

Tadashi broke up the moment, to Hiro's relief. He stepped over and tousled his little brother's hair, his eyes soft. "You did good, knucklehead," he approved. Leaned over and added slyly, before Hiro could reply: "But your fly was down the entire speech."

Immediately, Hiro began to panic, and looked down. His expression then crawled over with genuine anger, and he looked back up indignantly. "Tadashi, I'm wearing a _gown_!" he snapped, only souring when his brother dissolved into laughter. He scowled. "And even if it _was_ , I was standing behind a _podium_!" Tadashi didn't waver in his laughter, and Hiro glowered daggers at him. "Oh my God, you're the absolute worst. You're actually the worst person I've met in my entire life. You're like if trash took on a human form."

Tadashi was still laughing. He shook his head. "You don't mean that," he snickered.

"No, I do," Hiro promised. "In fact, your new name is going to be—"

"Professor?" He stilled at his name. At the voice. His eyes flashed, and Tadashi, who was already looking at who it was, began to die off in laughter, and adopt a much more sober expression. Hiro turned though, and met Abigail's stare with a ready smile. A genuine one, though it wavered only slightly when he saw her. She was wearing her black-framed glasses, and her hair, which had only just begun to grow out longer, was pulled back and up under her cap.

In the moment, she looked far too strikingly similar. But Hiro's smile was quickly recovered. "Hey!" he greeted. "Congratulations! See? I knew you could do it." It felt like ages since she had been crying in his classroom, and he had talked her down from quitting. He smiled. "Glad you stuck around."

She returned the grin wholeheartedly. "I am too," she replied, her voice earnest and heartfelt. She glanced down at her feet briefly before she looked up at him again, a little embarrassed. "I wanted to thank you," she offered softly. "For these last five years. I met…so many new people, and I learned so many new skills, and I learned so many new things." Hiro warmed at the sentiment. "I absolutely loved every second of it, and I know that I wouldn't be where I am now if I hadn't had you as a professor. So thank you so much. For more than just this diploma."

He nodded. "All in a day's work," he returned. There was a small pause before he added a slightly more withdrawn: "I know you're going to go far. You're brilliant, and you'll stay that way. Your…your last project…" She seemed anxious when he brought it up. He had graded it already, and it had been, of course, an A+. But he hadn't commented on it directly. Now he did. He relented a small, but emotional: "It was very good. Thank you. You should go on with that."

She warmed. Nodded her head. "Thank you. I want to."

The pair stared at one another. And even though they had only been introduced at the beginning of Term One, it felt, to Hiro, they had known each other for much longer than that. That they'd known each other far too long. It occurred to him, though, as a fact he had known this entire time but had been unable to properly face, that that was false. That they hadn't known each other for that long. It was another Abigail, who he had known. It was another life, and it was a life he was never going to have to return to. He may be unable to stop thinking about it, and there was no telling how long that would stay. But it wasn't her. Not really.

"Good luck, going forward," he wished. "You'll be fantastic. I hope you come back and visit." And he found that he meant the sentiment.

She brightened. "I will! I promise."

Aunt Cass and Tadashi were both watching the exchange closely. Silent, both fully aware of the situation. Of course they were— how could they not? But for once, Hiro found himself not focusing on where they were. He paid no mind to it. "I'll hold you to it," he just told her.

She nodded. Realizing she should get going because her parents were looking for her, Abigail glanced over her shoulder quickly before back to her teacher. She offered him one last smile, already walking away from him, backwards, and just hoping she wouldn't fall. "Goodbye, Hiro!" she called out, reaching up with her free hand in a quick wave.

Hiro softened at her grin, and her cheery goodbye. He felt a pang in his chest that seemed stronger than it should have been, and more palpable. It felt like a lot, standing there and watching her walk away. Watching the constant reminder of his time away smile and flounce its way out just as easily as it had flounced its way in. It felt like a part of him was leaving. Strange as it was. And so he felt his eyes sting again, and his vision blurred over ever so slightly as she turned on her heel and started away quicker. Hiro took a small step forward, as if he was going to follow. But he wasn't.

He sucked in a quick breath and shouted after her, hoping she would hear.

"Goodbye, Abigail!"

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

A/N: Thank you very much for reading this story. It was truly a wonderful project to work on, and I loved writing for you all, and hearing what you thought. I sincerely hope that this ending is good, because I certainly wanted to do it justice. This is now the longest chapter I have ever posted on , copping in at 29 pages in 8.5 font. There was a lot I felt needed to be included. I hope you all liked it, and found it a proper closure to this story.

A lovely reviewer asked if I would share my inspiration and drive in writing this story with my readers, and I would be more than happy to oblige. And I think Hiro's speech reached it, in a way. I wanted to show how important it was to retain yourself, and hold onto yourself as best you can, even in the face of adversity. I would hope everyone would be able to do so, and even if you're in a tough situation, that you stay strong and live with it, rather than let it bury you. We all have hard times, and I've had my fair share. It is the most difficult thing in the world to swallow something down and carry it with you, when all you'd like to do is let it smother you.

But sometimes it really is the best feeling in the world when you can manage to rise above it. To be strong not because you lived with something, but because, even if just for a simple moment, you were able to let it go.


End file.
